#turn a lie into a mistake you feel oh so guilty about so you just had to say something and suddenly you're a golden child with integrity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 2) / Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: part two!! thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the sweet, lovely feedback i got on part one, i was so happy you enjoyed the opening chapter!! this part gives some more backstory on reader+bradley, and i hope you like it just as much as you did the first! once more i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you to everyone who said something wonderful and kind about the first part, it meant a lot to me. <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Instead of your alarm, you wake up to a call from Carole. It’s 7:29, and when you raise the phone to your ear, your voice is gruff and achy with sleep.

“Hello?”

It feels just like yesterday. Yesterday, that comes flooding back to you in a barrage of awful memories. All that’s changed is the bed you’re in; you’re still alone. You almost miss Carole’s response because you’re slowly taking in everything that hits you like an anvil from above, but you catch the last word and can discern her meaning.

“-visit?”

“Yeah,” You rub your eyes, feeling tears already gathered there; a great way to start your morning.

“Yeah, I’ll visit,” You confirm, and your alarm buzzes against your head. You hastily shut it off and yawn, only inducing more tears and sighing as you speak again, “I’m gonna run to the store real quick, get some stuff for cookies. He convinced me to sneak them in.”

“That boy,” Carole huffs, and even half-asleep, you hear her voice laced with fondness for her son, “Alright honey. How y’doin’?”

“Um,” You ponder, truly unsure as your fingers pick at a stray thread on the blanket; you’d been meaning to replace it for months. “Okay. Not okay, but not- not as bad as yesterday. I think-” You swallow, throat convulsing, “I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.”

She’s silent for a moment, letting your words sink into your own brain. You feel guilty for them, just like you feel guilty for leading Bradley on, pretending nothing is wrong when your entire lives have fallen apart. But she eventually responds with all of the kindness and love she has inside of her, which is a lot.

“I know, baby. And it’s okay, it’ll get better. It’ll turn out right.”

“I hope so,” You breathe shakily, wishing either her or your boyfriend (pretend boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?) were there to rub soothing circles into your back.

“I know so.” She promises, and she’s never promised something she couldn’t guarantee. You hope this isn’t her first strike, because her never-ending optimism miraculously lifts your dreary spirits until your chest doesn’t ache with a sob begging to break free. “Alright, baby doll, I’ll let’cha get to baking. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me sneak in early, I- Oh! Nurse,” She calls away from the phone, and you hear her move on the other end, no doubt chasing down a poor nurse that doesn’t want to get fired for letting her in before visiting hours. You hang up the call with a snort, fond of how her fierce love for those around her hasn’t faded in all the time you’ve known her.

Pulling yourself out of bed is hard, but you do it for Bradley. You’re sluggish as you traipse to the bathroom, using deodorant in place of a shower and brushing your hair back into a ponytail. Showers are for people who have the luxury of time, you need to bake fast, and get over there to see if Bradley wakes up remembering anything new- er, old. You hope that he doesn’t, and then you hope that doesn’t make you a bad person.

One of the things you love about the place you’d shared with Bradley is that it’s close to a shopping center with a grocery store. It means that you walk to the supermarket, sandals on your feet and ratty, day-old clothes still on. No one seems to mind when you grab a basket looking like you’ve risen from the dead, and you collect the ingredients for Bradley’s favorite cookies with a skillful, experienced hand. You haven’t paid for anything by card in a while, you’d used emergency cash for the motel, and you wonder if you’ve been locked out of your joint bank account. Probably not; if the state of Bradley’s place had been any indication, he wants you back. But you’re cautious using the card anyways, in case a big red screen comes to life on the monitor in front of you and tells you you’re a terrible girlfriend. Almost a terrible wife.

You’re glad that you don’t run into any of your neighbors on the walk back home, because you don’t want to explain why you look the way you do, nor do you want to burst into tears when they ask where Bradley and his car are. You keep your head down and avoid the trike on the front walkway, ducking back into the house without being spotted.

Firing up the oven feels heavenly, maybe because you’ve been eating scraps of motel food for two weeks. It reminds you of all the times you’ve baked with Bradley, or, more like the times you’ve baked while Bradley steals pinches of sugar from the bowl or tries to lick the beater when there’s raw egg in the mixture, resulting in more batter in his mustache than in his mouth while you try wrestling the spatula out of his grip.

You go through the oatmeal raisin motions absentmindedly; a master at your craft. It frees up brainpower to reminisce, and you sort through a mental file cabinet to find your favorite memory of baking with Bradley.

“I want to try the vanilla,” Bradley reaches for the teaspoon in your hands, and you jerk it away, thankful that it isn’t full of the brown liquid yet.

“Absolutely not,” You laugh, “Brad, it’s gross by itself. It’s like eating straight cocoa powder, it’s meant to be mixed in with something.”

He pouts, he actually pouts, a man of 36. The expression has his mustache hanging over his lower lip and you can’t help but giggle at it, leaning in to kiss the prickly hair on his face.

“You’ll have a cookie to eat soon,” You promise him, dumping a teaspoon of vanilla extract into the mixing bowl. He plays satisfied with your answer, but when you turn your back to fold the mixture in on itself with a spatula, you hear rustling behind you, then the click of a cap, and a muffled gag.

“I told you,” Your voice is sing-song-y, and you turn amusedly to watch Bradley duck under the sink’s faucet, rinsing his mouth out of the bitter taste. He’s scowling when he comes back up for air, water dripping from his mustache as he crosses his arms.

“I thought it would be good.” He mutters, and you nod, humming as a bit of batter smears over your thumb from the spatula.

“That’s because you didn’t listen to me,” You lament, “I know everything, Brad. You should just listen to me, always.”

“Oh yeah? Alright, share some wisdom with me, Almighty One,” He teases, pushing off of the counter to join you at your own, “What should I do?”

He moves with his arms crossed, standing just close enough that you know the only answer you can give.

“Mm,” You pretend to deliberate, really leaning into it with a few contemplative taps at your chin, “Kiss me.”

He gasps dramatically, which is the way that he does most things, “Excellent idea. You really do know everything.”

“Mhm,” You nod, craning your neck up as Bradley leans down to kiss you, “I told you. Listen to me all the time.”

“I will,” He promises, “Quick, tell me we should have sex.”

“Bradley!” You gawp, an incredulous laugh oozing out from your chest, leaving behind a snail trail of joy, “You’re insatiable! We’ve already gone twice today.”

“Mm, can’t help it,” He tsks, backing you into the counter and kissing you once more. His lips press firmly to yours, his hands at your waist caging you into his embrace, “Honey, you taste much sweeter than that vanilla shit.”

When you come to, you’re putting the cookies in the oven. You’re alarmed at how zoned out you’d been, but evidently you hadn’t burned the place down, and you shut the oven door, setting a timer on the microwave. You tackle the dishes next, using the time that the cookies bake to tidy up your work station. The dough comes easily off of the mixing bowl and the melted butter drips over your fingers before you scrub it away, still slightly warm from the microwave. There’s only a few plates in the sink that you hadn’t dirtied, and you wonder if Bradley had washed and dried dishes while you were away. Or maybe this was it, four plates of food in two weeks. You’d been treating yourself that way, but it’s heartbreaking to know Bradley had, too.

You try warding off your incoming bout of sniffles by retreating back to your bedroom, choosing a new outfit to wear to the hospital. If you show up in the same thing, Bradley might worry about you, and you don’t want him thinking you were too sluggish to pull yourself together for him. You’re hurt, wounded and scarred with lashes over your heart, but he’s the one with the broken ribs and the lost memories, so you need to play the part of the strong one; the uninjured one.

He can’t know you’re hurting in case he asks why.

Your shower is quick, and you try not to think about Bradley in case you succumb to the urge to cry. Of course, it’s impossible to chase the thoughts from your head, and the feeling of your fingers scratching shampoo through your scalp turns into the feeling of Bradley’s. The hand that slides down your side suddenly isn’t your own anymore, it’s a memory of his. A ghost of him, a whisper against your skin of ‘I promise, baby. You won't lose me’.

You hope more than anything that promise stays true.

You get yourself ready to go with more zeal than you’ve felt in the past two weeks. You’re taking the bus today, to cut down on gas money, and you’re sure you’ll spend the whole time worrying. You’re nervous about seeing Bradley, but it’s a few minutes past eight-thirty and you’re sure if he’d regained his memories, Carole would have notified you. Beyond the nerves you’re almost excited to pretend to be his girlfriend again, excited to live in the fantasy life you’ve created to preserve his peace of mind. You never thought you’d love to lie to him.

You’re much more put together today when you greet the receptionist, and you're not sure you could forget the way to his room if you tried. There’s a bag of the oatmeal raisin cookies hidden in your purse and you slip into the room just as a doctor leans over him to take his temperature.

You adore the way Bradley smiles at you. His eyes meet yours as you stand in the doorway, previously cautious and now elated that he seems to like you still. His face lights up and he calls, ‘Baby,’ alerting the nurse to your presence.

“Miss Mitchell!” The woman greets you, the one who’d brought Bradley’s dinner last night.

“Hi,” You gush, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that’s made of pure elation. It’s a sickly sweet sound, one that you thought you’d never be able to make again after leaving Bradley. You rush to kiss him when the nurse leans away, scribbling down his temperature on his chart.

He lifts his hand to cup your cheek when you kiss him and the tears that line your eyes are happy ones; there’s still time. There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy.

You take a moment to breathe after the kiss, doing so against his lips. He does the same, and you bask in each other’s presence, noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. Skin-on-skin, love-on-love.

“His heartbeat really did speed up,” Carole marvels, and you scramble to greet her, guilty that she’d slipped your mind in the rush of emotions you felt.

“Hi! Hi, sorry,” You stammer, wrapping her in a hug while she waves away your apologies.

“No worries, baby!” She squeezes your shoulders, beaming at you. You’re sure she’s thrilled you showed up, and you know Bradley is too from the way he grabs for your hand when you sit by his bed. He’s always been a touchy guy, his hands are never idle, but he’s never been quite this clingy before. It’s good, it helps ground you, and it’s what you need after a two-week bender in a motel.

“Brad,” You coo, unable to resist kissing him again when he turns his head to face you in the bed. He looks more comfortable today than he had yesterday, no more breathing tube or pale skin. There’s dark circles under his eyes, but you’re sure he’s still shaken up from the crash, and you’ll make sure he gets to sleep nice and early tonight.

If you’re able to.

Once you’ve kissed him you dot smaller ones across his face, heart soaring at the gentle laughter that spills from his lips as you do so. You kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the space beside his eyes that’s wrinkled from years of laughter, and when his pretty brown eyes flutter shut, you go for the eyelids, too. You savor each one because you know it could be your last, and when he strokes the back of his hand along your cheek, you lean into the touch.

“Pretty girl,” He hums, and you feel your cheeks get hot. Newly showered, you felt more put-together than you’d been before, but you’d spent the past two weeks in a pigsty of your own creation, so the compliment means more than he knows.

Apparently, he feels your cheeks grow hot, too. His fingers pick up on the warmth and he laughs again, this time only a normal amount of raspiness clinging to the sound., He’s hyper-affectionate, taking his chance to dot kisses over your features for a change. The giddiness in your chest as his lips press to your skin, mustache prickling it, makes it feel like your heart will burst. You feel undeserving as he showers you with the affection you’ve missed so much, but you’re greedy so you take it anyways, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Carole was taking pictures of you in secret.

“I have some good news,” The nurse reports, and you turn at her voice. She’s angled towards Carole, obviously having meant to leave you and Bradley be in your couple’s reverie, but when she notices that she has your attention too, she speaks to the group.

“Nothing abnormal was documented during your stay here,” She reads off of her chart, “It’s just the concussion and the broken ribs, which is remarkable for the accident you were in. You’re very lucky, Mr. Bradshaw. There was some smoke inhalation from the crash site but that’s not a major issue anymore, and if everything remains stable until dinnertime, you can go home tonight.”

“Oh!” Carole squeals, clapping delicately with her hands in her lap, “That’s fantastic!’

Bradley seems equally pleased, smiling wide, and it takes a lot of willpower to mirror his expression. He knocks his nose into your cheek and you feel his grin against your jaw, so you bring a hand up to scrub through the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s great,” You conclude weakly, blaming the lull in your voice on being so close to Bradley and not wanting to talk too loud. Carole eyes you nervously, though, trying to mask the worry in her eyes with a smile.

“You should still rest,” The nurse advises, “Those ribs won’t be healed for close to a month, maybe more. And you can sleep through most of the concussion, too. What’s good about going home is it’ll be familiar to you, and it might help trigger those memories you’ve lost. They’re still not back?”

“Nope,” Bradley shakes his head, keeping it pressed to yours, “I got nothin’.”

“Alright,” The nurse hums sympathetically, tucking the chart into a cubby by the door, “We’ll bring lunch at around one, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Thank you!” Carole calls after the nurse as she leaves, then she stands in her flowy skirt, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

“Miss Y/N,” She beams, “Bradley’s already had his breakfast. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no,” You shake your head, “Not yet. Are you going to get something?”

“I am,” She nods, shouldering her purse, “Would you like some hospital pancakes, baby doll?”

“Here,” You stand, but Bradley grabs your hand, keeping you close to his bedside, “I can-”

“You can sit down,” Carole narrows her eyes at you, teasingly menacing, “Sit your butt back in that chair and be with your boyfriend, honey! I can manage two to-go boxes.”

“Thank you,” You gush, settling back into your seat and squeezing Bradley’s hand. He doesn’t let up on his heavy grip until you’re planted in your seat, and even when he does loosen his fingers he still holds you. Carole winks at you when you leave, and Bradley’s attention is solely on you the second the door shuts.

“Y/N,” He murmurs, and sometimes you forget your name isn’t baby or honey around him. You turn, now a little more nervous to be there now that your buffer is gone.

His big brown eyes are oozing their signature sweetness, a golden glint in them under the lights of the hospital room. He looks healthier now, even though you know his ribs hurt, and you’re oh-so-happy to have your Bradley back.

“I missed you,” You confess, and his face breaks into a grin. He nods, leaning up to kiss you, and you close the gap so that he doesn’t have to strain his probably sore muscles.

“I missed you, too,” He breathes, and you kiss him over and over and over again until you think you might be stealing the breath from his lungs. You let up, if only to keep him healthy, otherwise you’d never stop.

“I wasn’t sure when you were coming,” His lips close momentarily around your lower one while yours frame his top in a sweet peck.

“The cookies needed time to bake,” You lament, your mouth slightly dewy from his kiss, “Sorry, babe. I would have come faster, I- I should have gotten up earlier, but-”

“You’re here now,” He cuts off your worries, the heated skin of his face pressing against yours like he’s trying to stick to you, “That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?” You hum dazedly, drunk on his love, “What about the cookies, do those matter?”

His eyes widen in consideration and he tilts his head to the side, mouth scrunching in a thoughtful frown, “Yeah, those matter too. Oatmeal raisin?”

“Oatmeal raisin,” You promise, digging through your purse, “Are you still on the hospital diet?”

“Honey,” He declares, sounding like his father's son as pride prickles his mustache, “I’d eat your cookies even if they killed me. Lay one on me, sugar.”

You snort at his cocky drawl, withdrawing a cookie from the bag in your purse. You break a piece off, hand-feeding him like his arms are still weak.

“Speaking of sugar,” You muse, stealing a bite of the treat for yourself and speaking with it pinched between your teeth, “I was thinking about baking together earlier. It was awful being alone, there was no one to eat the sugar out of the bowl.”

“Or drink the vanilla extract,” He cracks, and you laugh with glee.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking of!” You gush, taking his hand once more and squeezing it, “You gagged.”

“I don’t know! I just thought it’d taste good! I love vanilla,” He laments, only fuelling more laughter from you.

“Yeah, well you got a lot of it,” You chuckle, “Anyways, it was weird not having you there. I had to do the dishes all by myself.”

“Poor baby,” He croons, half sincere and half teasing. He strokes a hand down your cheek that you yearn to kiss, but it goes by too fast, “How’d you manage?”

“I thought about you,” You confess, and some of that amusement in his eyes dims, giving way to complete and total admiration.

“Yeah?” He breathes, incredulous like he's twelve and he can’t believe his crush actually likes him. He’s always had that sort of puppyish aura about him, like you’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his best friend, and he’s always happy you’re along for the ride. It’s probably why he holds your hand so frequently, like he is now.

“Yeah,” You nod, flipping his palm in yours and tracing over the lines etched into it, “It’s not home there without you, Brad.”

“We go back tonight,” He smiles, keeping his voice low so that it doesn’t shatter the serenity around you, “Together.” You notice a sheen of tears over his eyes and you fall in love with him all over again, unable to hold yourself back from admiring how much he loves you. You really, really don’t know how you fucked this up.

“Yeah,” You croak, smiling weakly down at his hand instead of into his eyes, “Together.”

“Breakfast,” Carole sings, propping the door open with her foot as she steps inside. Your heads turn in sync, and you see her holding two plates, both covered with plastic lids. “Miss Y/N, three pancakes for you, and there’s syrup for days.”

“Thank you,” You rush to help her, and some piece of your heart stays in Bradley’s palm when you drop it. You suspect you won’t get it back unless he forgives you eventually, or maybe he’ll keep it even if he does. You trust him with it, he’ll take care of it.

You wish you'd offered him and his heart the same courtesy.

Carole hands you your breakfast and takes a seat on Bradley’s opposite side, caging him in between his two girls.

“You want some, baby?” Carole croons at Bradley, but he shakes his head.

“No thanks, ma,” He clears his throat, turning to face you with a puppy-eyed look that he’s had mastered since age three, “But I would love another bite of cookie?”

“Oh, take it,” You grumble, handing over the baked good for Bradley to devour, “But if your blood sugar rises, or something, it’s not my fault.”

“Won’t tell a soul,” Bradley promises, a mouthful of oatmeal raisin already impairing his speech, “Thanks, honey.”

“Mm-hm,” You nod, your mouth similarly stuffed with food. The pancakes are good, considering they came from a cafeteria that also serves tuna and jell-o.

“Y/N, baby,” Carole calls just as much sugar in her voice as is in her breakfast, “Pass me that syrup?”

She’s asking for a container you’ve got in your hand, half-empty. She doesn’t want to open a new one and waste the contents, so you pass it over, but a drizzle drips off of the side and lands on Bradley’s chin.

He rears his head back as it falls, but he can’t burrow far enough into the pillow to dodge it. You squeal through your mouthful, swallowing quickly and painfully to rush out an apology you’re sure he doesn’t care about receiving.

“Sorry, Brad.” You curse your clumsiness, grabbing for a napkin but getting a better idea instead. You stand and lean over him to kiss the syrup off of his chin, feeling his face split into a grin while your lips are still attached to it. You can't keep a smile off of your face either, licking your lips clean of the stickiness.

“Cuties!” Carole giggles, just as giddy of a grin on her face as is on yours and Bradley’s. You’re sure she’s ecstatic to see you getting along so well, glad to know your acting isn’t just that.

“I was telling Bradley earlier,” You speak disjointedly through a mouthful of syrupy pancakes, “When I was baking his cookies, I was thinking about the times we’ve baked together. Wanna tell’er what you did, Brad?”

“Oh,” He groans, “No. Not fair, baby, I’m bed-ridden. I’m dying,” He sticks a protective hand over his ribs, now magically unable to lift his head from the pillow, “You can’t tell embarrassing stories of me to my mom.”

“I didn’t! I offered you the chance to tell it,” You roll your eyes, wary as you hear a nurse pass by the door. Bradley’s cookie is in plain sight, and he stuffs it into his mouth for safekeeping as the footsteps pass. No one comes in, though, and he struggles to finish his mouthful.

“Oh,” Carol gushes, “Somebody tell me! I wanna know, y’know I love teasin’ you, Brad.”

“Mom!’ He gawps through a mouthful of oatmeal, “Rude!”

“What’s rude is talkin’ with your mouth full,” Carole scolds, swatting him on the shoulder, “Swallow first, mister.”

“He ate-” You start, but Bradley lunges for you with impressive agility, twisting his torso to the side to clamp a hand over your mouth. You laugh, long and loud and brash while Bradley tries to muffle it. In his haste to silence you he tries saying ‘No!’ but he’s still got a mouthful of cookie, and the crumbs that don’t get caught in his mustache rain over your legs.

You’re still laughing. It’s messy, it’s gross, there’s half-chewed cookie on your lap, but Bradley’s holding you close, his strong arms around your head while he keeps a tight grip on your mouth. He’s laughing too, chest shaking as he tries powering through the mouthful of food that he’s got. Finally he swallows, but he doesn’t let go, only blows fruitlessly at the crumbs littering your pants.

“I’m sorry,” He pants, short of breath from chuckling, “If you hadn’t been so hellbent on embarrassing me, I wouldn’t have spewed raisins into your pancakes.”

“Gross! Okay!” You laugh uncontrollably into his palm between giggles, kissing at the skin there, “Okay. You win.”

He lets up only when you stop struggling, letting yourself sink into his embrace no matter how uncomfortable. A thought prods at the back of your mind like a lightning rod, sending a jolt of pain down your spine when it reminds you that this isn’t real. But you push it away, you don’t let it paralyze you, and your smile never falls.

“I’m sorry,” You hum to Bradley, while Carole watches you with amusement dancing in her pretty eyes, as well as in her movie star smile, “I just thought your mom would have liked to hear. That’s all.”

“She would,” Bradley nods, leaning back in his bed, finally at ease, “That’s why you can’t tell her.”

“You’re no fun,” She groans, and you finish up the last of your pancakes, gathering all of the trash (and cookie crumbs) to put them in the can. You have to let go of Bradley’s hand to make it across the room but when you’re by the door you stay there, your boyfriend’s eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You reach for the doorknob, then, while he can't reach you, “Carole, he ate vanilla extract.”

The nurse down the hall gives you a strange look as you rush to shut the door on both Bradley’s indignant shout and Carole’s gleeful giggles.

“Does he need help?” He looks at you skeptically, and you shake your head.

“We’re teasing him,” You brush the nurse’s concerns away, “Where’s the gift shop?”

True to your word, you stop by the bathroom, but your real destination is the gift shop. There’s a stuffed bear inside with fur the exact caramel shade of Bradley’s hair, and you only wish it had a mustache. Otherwise, it’s identical, flight gear on and aviators over its eyes.

“Hi,” You greet the cashier at the counter, handing over the bear and a book you plan on reading to him in your downtime, “Just these.”

While she rings up your purchase you hear the sliding doors behind you open, and you turn to see your dad and Nick enter. Their faces light up at the sight of you, and when the cashier gives you back the bear, you show it off to them.

“Just gotta get it a mustache,” Nick tugs softly on one of the bear’s ears, “Now that’s a good lookin’ bear!”

“I was gonna get’im a movie to watch,” Your dad beelines for the DVDs, but you pull him back.

“Dad,” You murmur, walking him and Nick towards the door, “He can just use his phone. Everything here is way too expensive.” You throw a kind smile at the cashier like you hadn’t just insulted her trade, “Thank you!”, and lead the way back to Bradley’s room.

The elevator ride almost goes sour when Nick tries pushing all of the buttons at once. You’re not sure how Carole has survived living with him for this long, but you swat his hands away with an incredulous shout.

“Don’t! I wanna get these back to him,” You beg, bear and book in hand, “I’ll bet he’s so bored.”

“You seen him already?” Your dad raises a brow, and you nod.

“Carole’s there, too,” You hum, “We just finished breakfast.”

“Does he ‘member anything new?” Goose asks, and that little lightning rod comes back, tazing your brain, burning one word into the matter there; liar, liar, liar. All of a sudden the elevator is too small, and you’d rather be anywhere but.

“Nope,” You shake your head, turning to face the doors of the elevator that ding, “Nothing.”

“Bradley!” Nick cheers, seeing his son alive and well, “Made it through the night?”

“Barely. Spent more time on my phone than I did asleep,” Bradley scoffs, and your heart skips a beat, not in a good way. Again you wonder if he’s found mystifying evidence of your breakup, an unfollow on instagram or a deletion of date nights from the calendar.

You’re sure he would have brought something up if he was confused, but you’re sneaking around, and it makes you paranoid enough to believe everything will fall apart at a moment’s notice. You have no peace, not when Bradley isn’t holding you.

“Well you’re going home tonight,” Carole reminds him, stroking over his cheek fondly, “You’ll get some good rest there, Brad.”

“Hey, alright!” Your dad whoops, “They’re cuttin’ you loose?”

“After dinner,” Bradley nods, “They said if nothing weird happens I can leave.”

“Congrats, Brad.” Nick claps him on the shoulder, standing in front of the seat you’d abandoned to go get his gifts.

His gifts!

You fumble with the bag in your hands, pulling the bear out first and passing it over.

“Oh, baby,” Bradley laughs, admiring its miniscule flight gear, “Bear’s almost as handsome as me.”

“Nah, a little more.” Pete squints at it, “It doesn't have that ugly mustache.”

“Hey!”, Father and son rage in unison, and Nick slaps your dad’s arm hard enough for Bradley, too.

“Uh, Carole,” You murmur, but the soft sound catches Bradley’s attention anyways. He’s drawn to you like a fly to honey, stuck in every last drop of your sweetness.

“I need to ask your mom a favor,” You smile down at Bradley, brushing hair away from his eyes, “Can we slip out?”

“Okay,” He hums skeptically, “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” You drag your voice out dramatically, leaning down to peck at his forehead. His skin is warm to the touch, and feels comforting against your lips.

“We’ll keep’im busy,” Nick declares, taking the book that you hand him, “Want me to read to you, Brad?”

“No.”

“Too bad! Ooh, Little Women. Wanna do voices with me, Mav?”

You and Carole step out before Nick or your dad could pull out any high-pitched giggles, and Bradley’s mom looks at you worriedly.

“What is it, baby doll?”

“I need help,” You confess, “If Bradley’s coming home tonight, he’s gonna notice a hell of a lot of stuff missing from our place. I just took everything I could grab and I ran,” You recall, dry swallowing at the thought of the boxes piled into your motel room, “I can’t put everything back by myself, and I- I don’t want to force you to help, but my dad and NIck can’t know, and-”

“Slow down, sugar,” She hums, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down your arm, “I’ll help you. What do we got, clothes and shoes?”

“And books, and toiletries, and... puzzles.” You concede drearily.

“Baby,” Carole arches a brow, looking almost sympathetically at you, “You brought puzzles with you?”

“I thought I’d be bored!” You reason, shoulders stiff to your ears, “But I haven’t had much of an appetite for puzzling.”

“Alright, I’ll help you,” She promises, “How long are we gonna need, honey?”

“A few hours,” You shrug, “We can carpool to base, I’ll pick up his Bronco, and we can head to the motel I’ve been at to get my stuff. We’ll need the extra space in the back of his car.”

“Okay! Okay,” Carole gushes, and you think she’s almost a little exhilarated by this spy operative, “Let’s stay for lunch, then we’ll go. We’ll say- uh, the house needs cleaning!”

‘Perfect,” You rub at your temples, “Thanks, Carole. And- and we’ll buy party decorations,” You snap your fingers, “I told him we were out here talking about a surprise, so we’ll throw a little welcome home thing tomorrow, have cake or something. That’s our alibi.”

“Got it! I’m off to the bathroom,” She heads down the hallway, “Get back in there!”

“-told you, I’m Jo!” Your dad is standing squared to Nick, eyes narrowed and shoulders tight, “It’s not fair that you get to be everyone!”

“Well if you did the voices right, I wouldn’t have to take over everything,” Nick huffs, “Tell’im Brad, that was a shitty Beth impression!”

“Both of you suck,” Bradley drawls, his eyes tracking you intently as you slip back into the room, “Baby, you okay?”

You shake off any residual nerves from your scheming with Carole, nodding as light-heartedly as you can, “Yeah! Yeah, Brad,” You take your seat beside him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you. He's always good at reading you, and everything about you right now is a lie. You smile at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t react like you want him to, he still doesn’t believe you. He studies you when you pull away, and you laugh in defeat, “I promise, I’m just exhausted from all of this. But that shouldn’t matter, I wasn’t the one whose jet crashed! As soon as we get you home I’ll be fine.”

That seems to work, clearing away the worry swirling in Bradley’s honey-colored eyes. He nods, smiling softly, “Yeah, me too.”

He takes your hand, and you’re starting to wonder how you’d ever survived without holding his. You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. Your heart aches for the man beside you, how shaken up he must be to cling to you like a lost puppy.

While Nick and Pete argue you feel Bradley’s fingers slip from yours, and it’s such an unexpected motion that you turn to watch him. He’s looking intently at your hand, though there's an absent-minded air about him, and your stomach drops when he ghosts his rough thumb gently over your ring finger.

“Brad?” You murmur, trying to keep from choking up, “‘Love you.”

He smiles, eyes trained back on yours and full of tenderness, “Love you too, sweetheart. Where’s my mom?”

“Bathroom,” You drop your eyes down to his hands, studying his own bare ring finger. You hope you get to see it decorated one day.

“Do you want me to read to you?” You look back up at him, your nose nearly bumping his cheek. Nick has left the book on the side table near the foot of Bradley’s bed in order to gesture with both hands, and you’re sure they wouldn’t notice if you lit it on fire where it sat.

“I’d love for you to read to me,” Bradley laughs breathily, “I haven’t been hearing your voice much lately. Not like I used to.”

“I know,” You lament, hoping your voice doesn’t tremble. You know he means unobscured, private, without beeping in the background and the ever-present threat of a nurse coming in to kick you out, but you hadn’t heard Bradley’s voice in weeks, so you understand the internal yearning.

“Come here,” Bradley suggests when you fetch the book, offering up the right side of his bed. It’s small, nothing you wouldn’t attempt at home but something you don’t want to risk in the hospital.

“No, it’s okay, Brad.” You shake your head, trying to pat the blankets down around him but he doesn’t let you, reaching for your thigh.

“No, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You insist, standing when he tries dragging you into the bed with him, “It’s okay, Brad, let’s just sit. We can be closer when we’re home, but for now I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He looks crushed. Really, truly crushed, his brown eyes holding such a vulnerable look in them that you feel like you’ve just punted a puppy across a football field.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” You repeat, swallowing thickly as tears prick at your eyes. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’m scared, Bradley.”

You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. You’re afraid that you might never recover from this, but if he wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your hair and holds you close, you know you never will. You’ll spend the rest of your days living in regret, and your self-preservation instinct is kicking in again.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bradley murmurs, though he doesn’t need to be quiet now that Nick and your dad have stopped bickering. They’re stealing sneaky glances at the two of you, acting like their sunglasses stop them from being noticed even though their heads are turned towards you.

His words strike something within you that he didn’t mean for them to. He’s spoken unknowingly to your outstanding promise with yourself, that you won’t run away because something is scary. And your promise to Carole, as well, that you’ll make her son feel loved before he remembers that love wasn’t enough to make you stay.

“Bradley,” You breathe, book in one hand as you use the other to stroke through his hair. You’re standing at his bedside and he takes advantage of your proximity, sitting up and off of his pillows to lean his head against your stomach.

You’re glad he can’t see your face, because tears rush from your eyes in seconds. He’s a sweet man whose brain operates on love first, and thought second, so when he hooks his arms around your waist and nestles his face into your tummy, you know it’s his instinct to hold you.

At the sight of your tears the other men in the room decide to take their leave, smiling sadly at you while you comb your fingers through Bradley’s hair.

“We’ll give you some time,” Your dad whispers, but Bradley can hear just fine, “Bye, honey.”

You aren’t able to offer them a wave in response, but they know you appreciate it.

Once more the sterile hospital room is inhabited by only you and Bradley. Souls intertwined, tangled in some places and parallel in others, you hold him, stroking through his hair and praying he never picks his face up out of your stomach. There’s snot threatening to run down your lip but you don’t dare sniffle at the thought of ruining the moment, keeping your chest deathly still where it yearns to shake with sobs.

“I love you,” You whimper, dropping the book to cage his head to your belly, “I love you, Bradley, I- I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He speaks into your stomach, and the sound vibrates through your body, warming you with a tingly sensation like the one you’d gotten from your very first kiss with Bradley.

You’re sure he knows you’re crying now, now that your voice drips with tears and your hands shake in his scalp. He doesn't break away, though, only tugs you closer, keeping his face nestled to your body as he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap. You’re mindful of his broken ribs, but there’s nothing wrong with his thighs, so when you land on top of them, you let yourself rest there.

Bradley’s wormed his nose against your cheek, no longer snug in your stomach but flush to your face instead. He holds you like he used to, before you spooked and ran, before he fell out of the sky in a blaze of flames, before anything in your life was complicated. He holds you like he held you when you were just Y/N and Bradley, cradling your face to his chest and tucking his chin over your head.

“You’re hurting, too,” He murmurs, rocking you ever-so-slightly back and forth as you sit sideways on his lap. He keeps you tucked to his chest, smooths your hair with one hand and holds your waist with the other.

“I’m the one that went down but you’re the one who got that phone call,” He moves his hand from your hair to your back, scratching aimlessly there, “You’re allowed to be upset over that. You don’t have to pretend like nothing is wrong just because I’m in the hospital. I don’t want you to pretend to be strong if it’s only gonna make you weaker. Talk to me, honey, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t!” You wail, clutching his hospital gown and praying you aren’t hurting his ribs, “Bradley, I- I can’t tell you. I can’t do that to you, not here, not now. I’m scared,” You weep, “I’m really scared, Bradley.”

“Don’t be. You’re okay,” He promises, pecking a soft kiss against the crown of your head, “Baby, you’re safe with me. You don’t have to be scared of anything. Of talking, or feeling, or hurting. That’s what I’m here for, angel, to talk with you, to feel with you, to hurt with you. That’s what love is, honey, and I love you, you know I do.”

His voice wobbles slightly on the last fragment of his sentence, and you don’t think you can handle seeing him cry. You’re terrified out of your mind, but determined just the same not to run, and it’s stuck you in this awful paralyzed state. All you can do is hold Bradley, all you can do is let him hold you, and hope that his memories never return.

“I don’t want to stress you out,” You mourn, picking your head up from his chest to press it to his face instead. You want to fuse yourself to him, so that he couldn’t cast you away if he tried.

“I’m stressed about whatever you’re not telling me,” He laughs sadly, a soft huff of air from his chest, “Baby, it makes me stressed knowing you’re shutting yourself in like this. Knowing there’s stuff going on up here that you don’t want to talk to me about.”

He taps your head, then smooths his hand down the nape of your neck to rub at your back.

“Tell me,” He begs, voice raw with despair, “Please, angel, tell me what you’re feeling.”

You owe him the truth. Concealing the truth was one thing. Sneaking around, covering up behind his back so that he didn’t notice anything peculiar was a preventative measure. But now he’s asked for your honesty, now it’ll be lying if you don’t tell him. Now you’ll be lying to him, really and truly lying to him, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You choose honor this time, sniffling hard and bracing your hand on his chest so that you can look him in the eyes if you feel brave enough.

“Bradley,” Your words roll off of your tongue with the weight of steel, and you have to force them out of your throat to get them to go at all, “I want to be honest with you. But I’m scared-” Your face crumples, and you fight to right it, “But- but that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair for me to shut you out, You’re right, you-” You falter, the pitch of your voice wobbly as you take a deep breath, “You love me. And I know I can be honest with you.”

“You can,” Bradley promises, stroking his knuckles over your cheek. He stares into your eyes, and you stare into his only to get a last glimpse of their sweet honey-like hue.

“You should know,” You drop your eyes, unable to confess while looking into his, “I love you, Bradley. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you, too,” He promises, “Now what’s the matter, honey?”

“It’s-”

“Mr. Bradshaw?” A nurse steps into the room, and instantly the moment is shattered. There’s no picking up the pieces, no glue in the world strong enough to repair the bravery you’d mustered up to be honest with Bradley.

He looks annoyed at her interruption, something you know he wouldn’t normally feel towards anyone doing their job, but he refrains from snapping at her.

“Yes?”

“We need to run some vital tests. Blood sugar, heart rate, breathing, the like. After they’re cleared, we’ll know if you can return home or not.”

From his hold on you, you gather that there’s nothing Bradley would rather do less in the world than let you go, and there’s nothing you’d rather do less than let him, but you peel away from him reluctantly, standing where you’d been tucked into his lap. He settles back against his pillows that you’re sure are cold now, and you tuck the blanket beneath his thigh to keep him warm.

He ducks his gaze and you see tears lining his eyes that you want to wipe away, but he grabs for your hand again, and you hope that’s enough for him.

The nurse pokes and prods at him, reads machines and scribbles their information down, and the door opens once again before she’s done conducting her tests. Carole, Nick, and Pete step back through the doors, smiling sheepishly at you. You have a sneaking suspicion that Nick and your dad had held Carole off from coming back to the room while you spoke, which you’re grateful for. You just wish you'd had a little more time.

“Alright,” The nurse claps, smiling cheerily like she hadn’t just shattered your moment, “You are in good shape, Mr. Bradshaw. Your blood sugar is a little high,” She notes with a furrowed brow, and you shoot a knowing glance at Bradley, “But everything else seems right. Your ribs should heal within a few weeks time, and once you get back home and see familiar surroundings, your memories should return. All you need to do is rest, once I get these processed and signed off by the doctor, you’ll be good to go!”

“Thank you,” Carole gushes, while Bradley just nods with a tight smile on his face, jaw tight in irritation at the four unwanted parties in the room.

“Goin’ home, big guy.” Nick grins at Bradley as the nurse makes her leave. He claps his son on the leg and this time Carole doesn’t intervene, “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“Shower,” Bradley rasps, “There’s ash in my hair.”

“Not anymore,” You showcase your hands, dust and ash clinging to the spaces between your fingers from when you’d run them through Bradley’s hair.

He laughs at the sight, “Still. The second thing on my list is sleep, and I don’t want to get anything on the sheets.”

“Good plan,” Carole beams at her son, hooking her arm around yours, “Baby, we should head out. We’ve got lots to do for this surprise of yours,” She gloats at Bradley, then turns back to you, “But you should wash your hands first, honey.”

“Okay,” You nod, eager to get out of a situation you’d been so courageous in only minutes before, “I’ll- um, get my stuff.”

You bend towards your purse, taking the bag of cookies out, “If your blood sugar rises and lands you in here for another night,” You warn, “I’m never making these again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bradley nods, but your dad is the one to take the bag, not him.

“Don’t steal them,” You narrow your eyes at your dad and Nick, “And don’t get caught feeding him any. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am!” They echo Bradley, standing at attention. You scoff, turning back to Bradley and leaning down to meet him where he lays back on his pillows.

“I love you,” You hum, and he’s already reaching out for you before you can touch him. He sits upright, grabbing for your hands and tilting his face upwards to beg for a kiss.

“I love you, too,” He mumbles, speaking lowly against your lips as you kiss him. When you pull away he wants more, keeping your hands firmly in his grip when you try to leave.

“Bradley,” You let out a soft laugh, but you kiss him again anyways, knowing he’s still reeling from being a second away from finding out the truth, the extent of which he’s not prepared for.

“It’s okay,” You whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead to his, “We’ll talk later.”

”Yeah,” He nods, arching up into your embrace even though he knows he has to let you leave.

He calls out again before you leave, “Love you!” And you repeat it with a sad smile on your face, letting Carole take your hand while Nick and your dad sit at Bradley’s bedside. The last you see of him is his fading grin as you wave goodbye before the door shuts, and you’re in the hallway.

“Something happened in there,” She gushes, misplaced excitement shining from her eyes like a sunbeam, “I just know it! He was all lovey-dovey when you left, even moreso than usual. He really didn’t want you to go, angel.”

“I almost told him,” You mutter as Carole leads you to the elevator, nerves churning your stomach.

“What?” Her smile drops in surprise, and she stomps to a halt on the tiled floor. She presses the button, and when the elevator dings she ushers you inside.

“He asked me to be honest with him,” You recall, sick at the thought of how close you’d been to losing him, “And- and he was holding me, Carole, like he used to. And I couldn’t help it, I just- I wanted to tell him everything, I couldn’t stand lying to him and pretending nothing was wrong. But I- I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth. I tried, and we got interrupted, I mean- isn’t that a sigh? Some sort of clue left by the universe to tell me to wait a little longer?”

“Baby I don’t think the universe is sendin’ you clues,” Carole looks sympathetically at you, “I think you’re lookin’ for reasons to run away again. I know I’m the one that told you to pretend, but that boy can read you like a book, and if he’s catchin’ on, maybe you ‘oughta give it up. I saw him in there, honey.” The door dings and slides open, and she takes your hand to lead you outside, “There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t forgive you for. He was clinging onto you like a leech, and I think he’d understand you were scared. Might not like it, but he’d understand.”

“He keeps saying that I’ll never lose him, or- or that he loves me, or that I can tell him what’s bothering me,” You gesture with your free hand as you walk to the parking lot, “And- and it feels so perfect! Like he knows exactly what I need to hear. Like I could tell him and nothing would change. But everything would change, and- and I don’t want that,” You suppress a sob as you reach Nick and Carole’s car, pulling open the door to the passenger’s side.

She stashes her purse by your feet, stuffing the key into the ignition, “Baby, everything’s already changed. He just doesn’t know that. But he will soon, and once he does, he’s gonna realize why you’ve been acting so weird. If you were pullin’ it off, I’d say keep going. If he wasn’t asking questions, you could keep this up, ‘cause you’d be doing him a favor. That was the whole point, baby, to let him down nice and easy, give him a bit of time to adjust to the crash before confessing about the breakup. But I should’ve known he’d realize you were lyin' to him,” She scoffs, checking her mirrors, “That boy would notice you’d changed your haircut from just your voice on the phone. He knows you too well, honey, and if he’s askin’ all the right questions and you’re giving him all the wrong answers, that’s gonna stress him out. And that’s doing the opposite of what we want. If this is just gonna make things worse, I say tell him. But-” She backs out of the spot, en route to base to fetch his car, “Not yet. Wait until you’re home. Then he’s in a familiar environment, you can kneel by the bedside and grovel if you want,” She waves a hand in the air, “Just be honest with him baby, if it’s what he’s askin’ for.”

She barely lets you mull her words over before she starts again, “I think it’s a good time. You told me that when you left, you wish you hadn’t. And you’ve spent the last two days showing that to him, even if he doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing. He knows you love him, and I think he’ll forgive you if you confess that you were just scared of losing him. ‘Cause you can’t fake love like that, honey.” She eyes you through the mirror, “You can pretend y’all never broke up, but the way you love him, that’s not pretend, and he knows that.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” You sniffle, “If he doesn’t know by then. I- I know I have to, even if it’s scary.”

“Atta girl,” She gushes, nearly flooring it at a green light in her excitement, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Don’t be,” You grumble, ‘Not yet. Not until I do it.”

“I know you will,” She decides, “You’ve never lied to me before.”

“Actually,” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, “I have, once.”

She narrows her eyes, gives you a sideways glance as she makes a turn, “Oh, really? And when was that?”

“Uh, when we were in high school, I told you Bradley and I were staying at my place while my dad was gone,” Your face twists into an involuntary smile at the memory, “We went to Vegas.”

“What?” She shrieks, almost stomping on the breaks, “Vegas?”

“It was just for a night! And we didn’t gamble,” You scoff, “They wouldn’t let us into any casinos.”

“Ooh, you two,” She seethes, but it’s happened so long ago that she can’t be mad, not really, “Surprised y’all didn’t get married down there.”

“Actually,” You laugh, “We tried. But you weren’t there to sign off on it, and we were only 17.”

She shares a laugh with you at the memory, pulling into the security checkpoint outside of the naval base. You have to pass your ID over her, and you explain that you’re just picking up your partner’s car. They let you in, but you don’t think they like your presence very much, so you get the car and go as quickly as you can.

“It’s the motel just off the freeway,” You gesture in the direction of the place you’ve been staying, “We’ll load up the Bronco and meet back at our place.”

“See you there, babydoll,” Carole grins, already headed for the exit.

You roll up your window just as your phone buzzes, and you put the call on speaker while your phone balances on the cupholder.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Bradley’s voice bleeds through the crackly speakers. Then, like an attached toddler their first night away from mom, “I miss you.”

It’s just what you need to hear after your gut-wrenching conversation with Carole, and you croon while waving to the security officers on the way out, “I miss you too, Brad. I picked up your car. Didn’t want her sitting all alone on base.”

“Thanks, babe,” You can hear the grin in his voice, “Is my mom still with you?”

“No, she’s driving herself,” You merge lanes, brain on autopilot as you head for the motel, “And don’t ask what we’re doing, it’s a surprise.”

He scoffs; you’ve caught him, “Fine. They gave me lunch. It’s the same as yesterday.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, feeling more at home in Bradley’s Bronco than you had in your half-empty house, “I’ll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow, baby. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, fruit, whatever you want to eat.”

He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.”

You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans.

“I get the idea,” You promise him, and you hear Bradley huff a soft laugh into the speaker. You almost want to record the call, just to keep the sound forever.

“When are you guys coming back?”

“I don’t know, Brad,” You lament, tailing Carole as she heads for the freeway exit, “Hopefully before dinner. But if not, I’ll definitely be there when you get discharged, and I can drive you home.”

“And we can shower,” Bradley adds on to your sentence, eliciting another disgruntled sound from your dad, “And sleep.”

“And we can shower and sleep,” You promise, chest feeling light at the night’s plan. You’re pulling into the motel parking lot now, the dingy sign colored more in spiderwebs than in neon.

“I’ve gotta go, Brad.” You put the car in park, grabbing your phone and switching speaker off, “I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He’s hesitant to answer, and you wish you didn’t have to hang up. You know he’s still uneasy about the way that your talk ended earlier, but he finally speaks up, “Alright. Love you, too.”

“So much,” You hum, “Love you so much.”

“So much,” He agrees, more of that audible grin in his voice, “See you later, angel.”

“See ‘ya,” You hum, and it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would to hang up, not after that.

Carole’s standing ready at the strip of doors, and you pull the small, rusty key out of your pocket. There’s nearly ten boxes stacked in your room, and you prop the door open with one as you gather anything that isn’t packed away.

You haven’t changed clothes much since being there, nor have you been keeping up with your hygiene as well as you should be, so the clean-up process feels like a day's worth, not two week’s worth. But you’re thankful for the easy pickup as you load it into a half-empty box, hauling it out the door and to the Bronco.

Packing the boxes goes fast when you work with Carole. It had been much more of a struggle to cart two at a time from your place to the motel room, but with a little maneuvering, all nine boxes fit snugly between her car and yours.

“Alright,” You dust off your hands, picking at the edge of your nail, “You ready?”

“Actually, you go home,” She decides, “And I’ll go to the party supply store. I’ll pick up some ‘Welcome Home’ stuff, and when I get back I’ll help you with the rest of the boxes, and we can set up together.”

“Perfect,” You heave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Of course, baby!” She seems to have a never-ending supply of optimism, one that you’re thankful for because you seem to harbor the opposite.

Hauling your boxes back into the house is unexpectedly the easy part. What’s harder is putting everything back, filling in the gaps in the bookshelf with your own volumes, stuffing the dresser with the clothes you’d chosen to take with you.

When Carole gets back you’re dragging your thumb over the shirt you’d taken off of your pillow, ready to fold it and destroy the evidence of its association with your two-week disappearance. She peeks into the bedroom, expecting to find you hard at work organizing your novels, and instead sees you sitting on the bed looking like you’re going to puke.

“Baby,” She hums, “What’s the matter?”

“He put this over my pillow,” You sniffle, staring down forlornly at the object that had offered comfort to Bradley when you hadn’t, “He slept with it.”

“Oh, baby,” Carole whispers, standing behind you and rubbing your shoulders, “He loves you. Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you think it means everything’ll turn out okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

For the first time, you say it out loud. You’ve insinuated it, sure, thought about it, but you’ve never said it yet. Not out loud. You voice the fear that’s been bouncing around like a balloon in your head, popping it and feeling the aftershocks flow through you.

She’s quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say any more than you do. But she bends down, wraps her arms around your shoulders and hums, “He will, baby. He’s been sleepin’ with your shirt this whole time, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t miss you.”

“But even if he misses me, I still hurt him,” You sniffle, “I- I left, is missing me enough for him to want me back in his life? What if I went too far? What if we can’t come back from this? What if I lose him forever, Carole?”

“He kept my ring.” She murmurs, her voice the calm to your storm.

“What?”

“He kept it. Even though it wasn’t on your finger, he didn’t give it back to me. And he wouldn’t dare give that to anyone else, Y/N. It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”

Your silence is enough of a reply, and you’re glad because it’s all you can muster. You can’t find the words to thank her, to tell her you hope she’s right, to beg to whatever deity exists for mercy. All you can say is, “I don’t wanna take it off,” As you stroke a finger down the shirt over your pillow.

“Wear it,” She suggests, pulling at the sweatshirt you’re wearing, “Put that on underneath it, baby. He won’t notice, and you can have it on you as a reminder that he misses you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to tell him.”

“Okay,” You sniff, a stray tear drying sticky on your cheek as you stand. She turns you around and pulls you into a real hug, and you let her squeeze you before going to the bathroom to change.

The shirt smells like Bradley now that he’s slept with it for two weeks. You’re sure you’re just immune to your own scent, and that he could still find traces of it to lull him to sleep at night, but wearing it now feels just as comforting as you bet it felt for him to sleep with it.

When you wander out of the bedroom you find Carole in the living room. She’s standing on your coffee table with her right leg, and her left is on the arm of the couch. She’s pinning a banner to the wall, ‘Welcome Home Bradley!’.

“Hey honey!” She beams at the sight of you in your shirt, you’d forgone the jacket to not overheat while moving things around.

“Do you need help?” You watch her drive a pin into the wall with her thumb, and she shakes her head as she reaches down for another one, “No, I’ve got this. You just take care of your boxes, I can handle the party.”

“Yeah, you get the fun part,” You tease, and she laughs.

“Darlin’, I wasn’t the one to take my puzzles and run. Now go put ‘em back, I’m sure they’re the first things Brad’ll notice are missing when he gets home.”

You head back into the bedroom without any complaints. It’s hard to put everything back. No, it’s nice to put everything back. What’s hard is pretending it was never gone in the first place; what’s hard is lying.

You slide a lone book into its place on the shelf, one last spot left beside a photo album. Your fingers brush over a gemstone on the cover and you tug at the hefty spine, catching the jam-packed book before it can fall.

“Wow,” You breathe, barely aware that you’re speaking out loud. The cover showcases Bradley pressed up against the hospital’s nursery glass, peering in on a very sleepy baby you snoozing in her bassinet with Carole holding him up. You’d been born shortly after Bradley, not even a year, and he’d been very excited to meet his new best friend at the hospital.

A flip to the first page finds you in your dad’s old apartment, sleeping in your crib while Bradley’s hand wraps around the bars he’d pulled himself up on. Then the next page showcases a photo of him in the crib, curled up in the space by your feet while you sleep peacefully in your own spot.

You take the photo out of its sleeve, flipping it over to read the inscription you know by heart on the back: Bradley’s attached to Y/N at the hip. Won’t sleep anywhere else.

The next photos are more of the same. Bradley holding you on the couch, a gummy grin on his face at the baby in his arms. His hands barely bigger than yours, handing you a toy fighter jet. Tummy time on a play mat, where he’s holding a rattle just out of reach to get you to crawl like he’d seen your parents do. A shot of you tugging on his wispy hair, then a shot of Nick dragging a crying Bradley into his lap while your dad holds your previously clenched fist open. They tell their own story.

You’d been fated best friends from the start, but as you age in the photos, your relationship changes. All of a sudden there’s puppy love in your gaze when you reach your tween years, braces in your mouth and hearts in your eyes. There’s a picture of Bradley teaching you how to skateboard, and you're holding his hands for dear life. You distinctly remember a fiery flush to your cheeks in that moment, and you’re glad the camera hadn’t captured it. There’s New Year’s Eve in your matching pajamas, you cradled in Bradley’s arms like they’d make you pose every year since you’d come into the world. It was cute when you were kids, then it was embarrassing when you were teenagers, and now it’s cute again. In the photo you’re looking at you can’t be more than fourteen, and you know the second the shutter clicked on the camera, you’d scrambled out of his arms like they were burning you.

You flip through more pages, watching your relationship blossom from friends into lovers. All of a sudden you’re holding hands, you’re matching outfits, and you’re kissing when you think no one is looking. Then there’s the famous picture of Bradley on his 18th birthday, glaring at the camera with a box of condoms in his hands, courtesy of his dad. Funnily enough, your dad shares Bradley’s expression in the background. The inscription on the back of that one reads: Just making sure he’s safe! Don’t want any grandkids, not while I’m still in my glory days - Goose.

That New Year’s Eve photo is special. It’s you still cradled in Bradley’s arms like always, but you’ve leaned up to kiss him, and he’s leaned down to kiss you. You distinctly remember it being the first time you’d willingly kissed on camera in front of your parents, and the giddy smiles you’d forced into makeshift puckers are clear as day in the photo.

The matching pajama sets you’ve outgrown together are all stored in a box marked ‘sentimental’, not one that you’d taken with you when you’d left. You have a current pair, red and black buffalo print bottoms with fuzzy black tops, and you plan on asking Bradley to wear them tonight.

You haven’t noticed, but a smile has grown on your face, etching itself into your features as you relive your love story. You flip through family vacations, holidays, birthdays, sports games, barbecues, a million family events that Bradley joined you at. There’s never any of you apart, even though he’d been moved around for his career, because no one has ever thought to take a picture of one of you without the other. There’s no Y/N in this book, there’s no Bradley, there’s only Y/N and Bradley, and that’s what you want to be for the rest of your life. You want to fill out the rest of this book with aging photos, clearer in quality while the old ones yellow. You want to stuff this book until the bindings rip, you want to look back through it one day in a rocking chair beside one of Bradley’s own, faces wrinkled and hair grayed. Your story can’t end here.

Your phone buzzes on the bed, and you drop the photo album there while you check your message. No surprise, it’s from Bradley.

- The doctor signed off, I can go home after dinner, which shouldn’t be too much longer. How’s it going over there?

That’s great! You type back, biting a smile off of your face as you respond. It’s residual from looking through the photos, but you have to remember, you’re not there yet. It’s going good. Your mom is scary agile.

- What’s she doing?

Can’t tell you ;)

- Damn! Thought I had you there. Your dad’s eating one of my cookies :(

Tell him I said to leave you alone!

- He says you’re not the boss of him.

Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.

- He says she’s not the boss of him.

Tell your dad to tell him to leave you alone. She’s his boss.

- My dad’s eating one too :(

Those assholes! I’ll make you more, baby ❤

- I love you best. ❤

I love you too baby ❤

The lingering fear of a breakup - a real one this time, one that doesn't rewind itself amidst burning jet fuel - is stuck in the back of your mind, and you suspect it will be until you finally confess. But the photo album and Bradley’s messages have combined to lift your spirits, and filing your shoes back into their places doesn’t weigh you down as much as you suspected it would. You try to make them look haphazard, jumbling them with Bradley’s and turning a few of them upside down. You two are notorious for having out of control shoe collections, Bradley’s sneakers and your own shoes constantly tumbling out of the closet like a cartoon.

By the time the sun starts setting early on your California dream you’re nearly done, there’s just a few last garments to slip into your closet. You do so while wrestling with the clothes that are already in there, a hefty collection that leaves little room for the dress you’re trying to wedge inside. Nevertheless, a too-full closet is better than a half-empty one.

“Sugar?” Carole calls from down the hallway, hopefully not precariously balanced on any furniture this time, “Nick says they’re just serving Brad his dinner.”

You finally manage to set the clothes right on their hangers, panting slightly as you withdraw from the closet, “Okay! I’m almost done. We have a lot of clothes.”

She laughs, “Yes you do! You should eat somethin’ before we leave.”

“There’s no food here,” You sigh, “The fridge is empty. I’ll have to go shopping later. I’ll just stop for fast food on the way.”

“Party’s all set up,” Carole nods, jerking her head back towards the hallway, “If you keep the lights off in the living room tonight, he won’t see it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ for breakfast,” Carole nods, “We can bring food?”

You laugh huffily, “I wasn’t kidding about there being nothing in the fridge. Anything’s appreciated, thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, baby,” She beams, but reconsiders with a slightly furrowed brow, “Although, I hope this is the only time.”

“Me too,” You scoff, “Alright, let’s head back.”

True to your word, you pull through a fast-food drive-thru on the way back to the hospital. Carole knows Nick’s order, and you know your dad’s, hopeful that they’ll be tired of hospital cuisine and yearning for a burger instead.

However, when you get there, they’re waiting in the lobby, Bradley sat between them. You hadn’t realized how early they were letting him out, and Carole takes the bag of food from you so that you can properly hug Bradley. He stands the moment he sees you, eyes pooling with such urgency as he tries to respect the no-running rule of the hospital. You struggle just the same, and the moment you’re within arms reach of each other, tears start flowing. Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. His breathing is ragged beside your ear, but not from his medical conditions, from the desperation clogging his lungs. His fist is tight in the back of your sweatshirt but the fabric is loose on you, and it’s not a tight enough hold for him. His fingers scrabble for the shirt beneath the hoodie, gripping onto both garments and keeping you closer than you ever thought you could be with Bradley. Your hands immediately encircle his shoulders, and your fingers find purchase against the baby hairs at the back of his neck. You scratch through the ones at his nape, hearing him sniffle sharply where his chin rests on your shoulder. The hand that isn’t fisted in your clothes is tight to your hip, gripping you so hard that you can feel his nails through the jeans you’re wearing. It’s not painful, it’s just firm, and its strength is reassuring. It’s grounding to hug Bradley again, unobscured by breathing tubes, hospital beds, or prying nurses.

You hear someone’s phone camera sound off, but you’re far from discouraging it. In fact, you’re going to ask whoever it was to send you the photo later. The hug turns into an embrace, one where you sway lightly from side to side, anything that isn’t you or Bradley fading into the background. Your eyes are screwed shut but tears still cascade down your cheeks, melancholy waterfalls that drip off of the curve of your chin and stain Bradley’s t-shirt. He’s dressed in what he’d been wearing beneath his flight suit, the material thankfully not ripped or burnt thanks to the coveralls. You take the lead, pulling back, but he keeps the same level of contact with you. When your chin slips from his shoulder he grabs your face instead, using it to keep you pressed tight to his body. His eyes are teary themselves, streaks of the shimmery stuff down his cheeks and probably in his mustache, too.

“Hi,” You croak, smiling giddily through your tears.

He smiles, though the chubbing of his cheeks nudges a few more tears out of his eyes, “Hi.”

You smear them away with the palm of your hand, and use your thumb to rid him of the ones clinging to his undereyes. His hands are on your cheeks, too, and he tries mirroring your ministrations, but his thumbs are too shaky to do so. For fear of poking your eyes out, he clamps his hands over your cheeks again, content with holding you while your tears run over the hills and valleys of his fingers.

“You’re standing,” You marvel, ‘I thought you’d be in a wheelchair.”

“It hurts a little bit,” Bradley admits with a slight grimace, and you back away like you’ve been struck. He doesn’t let you get far at all, dropping your face to tug you back by your waist, “-but I’d rather break another rib than let you go.”

“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.

His lips twist into a sheepish smile, “Maybe. You can be my tree. I’m stuck on you.”

You sniffle, brow furrowing, “Huh? ‘Cause of the sap thing?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, “Isn’t that what it means? Sticky and sweet like tree sap?”

“I don’t know,” You breathe bashfully, your voice rife with part confusion and part sheepishness, “I guess that makes sense. But I’ve never been called a tree before.”

“I’ll work on my flirting,” He promises, stroking his thumbs up and down your sides in soft, soothing motions, “Can we go home now?”

You nod, “You should hug your mom first.” Only then does Bradley remember that you’re not the only other person in the room, turning in your grip to see your mini crowd of adoring onlookers.

He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”

“Hi baby,” She gushes, letting him squeeze her in a hug. He’s much more gentle with her, out of longing for you, not disrespect.

Nick reaches over to ruffle his hair and your dad nudges you sideways, “Happy to have him back?”

“Yeah,” You gush, a breathless whisper, “Nervous, though,” You admit, “What if he slips in the shower, or something? Or- or some freak accident happens and he doesn’t wake up?”

“He will,” Your dad slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close by your shoulders, “He’ll be alright, kid. And hopefully by tomorrow he’ll remember everything, maybe look at some pictures tonight to jog his memory. Show him stuff you took of these past few weeks, the places you went or the food you ate.”

You don’t have any pictures of your pitiful motel room, nor the candy bars you’d raided the minifridge for, but you wouldn’t show them to Bradley if you did.

You nod, breaking away when Bradley searches for you after his hug with Carole, “Thanks, dad.”

“You gonna be okay getting settled tonight, Brad?” Nick asks, already bringing a french fry to his mouth from the bag in his hand. Your dad has your food as well as his own, and you take your bag back from him as Bradley nods.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”

Everyone says their hasty goodbyes, and your hug with Carole lasts a second longer than you hope anyone notices.

“Tell him.” She whispers against your ear, the words a feather light breath, “He loves you.”

“I’ll feed you in the car,” Bradley grabs the bag of food from your hand when you nudge him towards the exit, “Can I have fries?”

“You’ve been on a diet of chicken and potatoes for two days,” You take the hand that he offers you, curling your fingers around his, “You can have the whole burger if you want, Brad.”

Bradley stops short in front of the bronco when he sees it, “There she is!”

“She’s here,” You laugh, “Perfect condition. The air freshener’s still good.”

“Poor baby,” He heads for the passenger’s seat, swiping a hand over the hood of the car on his way, “She probably thought we forgot about her.”

He settles comfortably in the passenger’s seat, though you’re sure it feels awkward to be there in his own car. He throws his head back against the seat and sighs, long and loud, a noise he would have made fun of his dad for making mere years ago.

“Comfy?” You glance sideways at him, your food in his lap while he rests against the seat. He nods, reaching for the bag as you start up the engine.

“Here baby,” He calls, popping two fries in front of your mouth just before you turn out of the parking lot, “Fries.”

You carefully bite them out of his hand, tipping your head back to get them fully into your mouth. You mumble ‘thanks’ through them, and you’re not sure if he can make out what you’re saying, but you hope it’s obvious.

“I can’t wait to get in bed,” He groans, “I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t remember being there for three weeks.”

“It’s cold without you,” You hum forlornly, checking your blind spot before merging, your hands stiff on the wheel. Your words leave more of an aftertaste on your tongue than the fries do, and it’s an unpleasant one. They mean more than you let on, and your brain is clouded thick with the worry of sleeping in a cold bed for the rest of your life.

There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Burger?”

He laughs, leaning in his seat when you turn, “Burger.”

He holds the food up to your mouth, letting you take a bite that smears sauce over your mouth. He takes a napkin, cleaning up after you and dabbing all of the mess away. You’re absolutely certain that if you weren’t on the road, he would have kissed it off. You make a mental note to eat just as messily when you get home, for experimental purposes.

“Can I have a bite?” He asks tentatively, and you turn at a red light to smile and nod.

“‘Course, Brad. I meant it, if you want it you can have the whole thing.”

“I don’t want you to go hungry,” He hums, taking a chunk to the left of your bite mark, “Thanks, babe. Fuck, that's good.”

“Did they finish your cookies?” You exit the freeway, muscle memory guiding you home.

Bradley speaks through a mouthful of burger, unpleasant to hear but somehow endearingly domestic, like he’s not worried about looking handsome for you. “Yeah. I got one more, but they mowed through the rest.”

“Those bitches,” You hiss, and he laughs, “Okay, we’ll bake tomorrow. But I’m keeping the vanilla away from you.”

He scoffs, “Always with the vanilla. I drank it one time!”

“One time is enough for a lifetime ban!” You insist, turning onto your street, “Okay, you shower and I’ll eat, then we can get into bed.”

“Sounds good,” He drawls, stuffing your food back into its bag and swapping it to you for the keys, “I’ll be quick in the shower.”

“No rush,” You croon, holding the hand that he offers you as you take on the front walkway together, “Don’t hurt yourself because you’re too eager to get into bed. It’ll be there even if you take your time.”

You’re bound for the kitchen and Bradley the bedroom, but you remember you have to keep the lights off so that he doesn’t see your decorations. You send him off with a kiss at the hallway, intent on watching him leave before setting up at the table.

“Goodbye,” You hum, standing with your lips puckered in the doorway of the hall, “If you need help, just yell for me.”

“Will do,” He nods, puckering his own lips and pressing them to yours with a cartoonish smack! You watch his ginger walk towards the bedroom, his hips off balance as his ribs ache in his chest.

Once you’re in the clear you flick the kitchen light on, choosing to stand at the counter instead of dirty the table. You busy yourself with your phone, tapping on an impatient text from Carole: ‘Have you told him yet?’

Not yet. You write back, munching on a french fry, Not in the car. He didn’t ask, either.

- Don’t lose your nerve, you can almost hear the critical tone of her voice just by reading her message, The longer you lie, the more he’ll worry about you.

I know. I’ll tell him.

- ❤️

“Babe?” You hear Bradley call over the stream of the shower, “Babe!”

You abandon the last few fries in the container, stuffing your phone into your pocket to rush to his aide. Horror flashes through your mind, visions of Bradley bleeding down the drain or hunched over in pain.

All you see when you burst into the bathroom is him looking like a puppy in the rain, a pitiful pout on his face as water runs down his face and through his mustache.

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.”

You can’t help but coo, “Oh, baby. Lemme help you.”

“Thanks,” He mumbles, “I already have the shampoo.”

True to his word, there’s shampoo smeared over his hands. Apparently he’d tried his best, but couldn’t move well enough with his broken ribs. You try not to laugh at his misfortune, especially because he’s in pain, but he’s just too cute to ignore. You try to muscle down the thought that this might be the last time you ever shower with Bradley, even if you’re not really in the water with him. You wet your hands, then wipe the shampoo off of his palms, reaching for his scalp.

“I’m sorry I’m making you stand in front of me naked and we’re not having sex,” Bradley huffs, “Believe me, if I thought I could, I’d be jumping you right about now.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, muffling the sound into Bradley’s forehead that you kiss chastely, “We should hold off on sex, at least until your ribs are healed.

Or until you know the truth.

“They don’t hurt too bad now,” Bradley muses, “But when I raised my arms to shampoo, it was really bad.”

“I’ll reach for things for you,” You promise, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. It knocks loose leftover ash from his accident, and it flows down the drain in a swirl of gray bubbles.

“Oh, fuck,” For not having sex, Bradley’s making some awfully pornographic sounds, “That feels good.”

“I’ll bet,” you hum, “Can’t imagine having ash in my hair for that long.”

“It’s not pleasant. Oh god, babe,” He groans, “Hurry up and rinse it out, I’m gonna fall asleep standing up.”

“Okay! Okay,” You laugh, scrubbing in one last circle at the nape of his neck then reaching for the showerhead, “Have you washed your body already?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, letting the water flow through his hair and rinse the shampoo out, “Oh my god, this is what heaven feels like.”

“Come on,” You smile, reaching for a towel, “Do you need help drying off?”

“You just wanna feel up my thighs,” Bradley accuses, and you laugh good-naturedly.

“Nope. Ass.” You admit, “But if you can do it yourself, then go ahead.”

“No!” He catches you as you stuff the towel to his chest, pulling you back towards the shower, “Uh, I need help. I think you should wipe down my very toned chest and my tight butt.”

“Oh, really? That’s what you’re having trouble with?” You snicker, and Bradley nods proudly.

“Yep. Can’t get my hands over my shredded back either, such a shame.”

“Alright, you flirt,” You scoff, “Turn around.”

You start on his back, and of course, it’s very fit. It’s nothing you haven’t touched before, in fact, you’re surprised there’s no scars there from your fingernails, but this is more intimate, more romantic, more sweet. This is love, not lust. You scrub the towel over his skin, wiping the water droplets away and rubbing into his tight muscles. You take extra care to dry off the small of his back, smoothing the towel down over his ass, too. Despite his earlier cheekiness, he doesn’t make any comments while you’re working. You wrap the towel around his thighs, pressing a kiss to his hip as you bend down to dry his calves off. He stands still to let you get his ankles dry, and you tap his foot to turn him around.

Now he’s looking down at you as you towel off his calves again, getting any splotches of water you may have missed before. You dry out the soft tuft of hair at his groin and move to his chest before you can tempt yourself, not wanting your first sexual encounter after a life-threatening plane crash to be a blowjob up against the shower wall. Especially not before you tell him the truth.

Now that you’re on your feet you’re face-to-face, though yours is bent slightly to track any water droplets you might have missed on his shoulders. You towel off his underarms carefully, making sure not to aggravate his muscles that are already bleeding pain through his gut. You swipe the towel over his neck, and in doing so, you’ve set your hand just below his chin. It’s as natural as breathing to slide it up his jaw, and he’s already staring at you, breath shaky as you return his gaze.

He moves first, but you take his cue right away. He leans in to kiss you and you’re happy to press your mouth to his own, not caring that there’s a drop of water leftover between his fingers that transfers to your skin when he cups your face.

“Baby,” He whimpers, desperate and longing, “I- I missed you.”

There’s tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and you manage a sad smile when you wipe them away, “Why, silly? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“I know. I just- I’m real shaken up,” He admits, “I- I don’t even remember the crash and that’s the scary part. I almost died and I’ve got no clue what happened. I feel lost, like- like I’m still stalling or something, just waiting to crash.”

“I’m so sorry,” You croon through your own tears, “Brad, that must be so scary, I- I can’t even imagine.”

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.”

“Sweetheart,” You coo, equally endeared and saddened by his sudden panic, “We're not at the hospital anymore, there's no visiting hours. Why would I leave? We're home, we’re gonna get changed, and then we’re gonna go to sleep. You’re safe now, okay?”

“Okay,” He nods, voice a mere whisper, “Okay, let’s sleep.”

“Clothes first,” You remind him through a cheeky grin, and the expression scrunches your tear-stained cheeks, cracking the stiffened substance, “We’re sleeping.”

“Alright, alright,” He laughs as you poke at his bare chest, “Will you help me? I managed to bend over and slide my t-shirt off but I don’t think putting something on will be as easy.”

“Mhm. I was hoping,” You reach for the sets of matching pajamas, holding them up enticingly, “You’d match with me?”

He laughs, the sound thick and genuine in his bruised chest, “Of course. I won’t look as good as you, though.”

“Yeah, my mustache is better,” You sigh, scratching a nail over your upper lip that’s morphing into a grin. You whirl on him with his shirt, helping ease his arms into the fabric and stretching the neck hole over his head so that he doesn’t have to bend down. All in all, it works, even if the neckline is a little stretched. He doesn’t need help with his pants, but you feel compelled to do it anyways, sliding his boxers and then the soft material up his legs and tying it tight at the waistband.

“Thanks, honey.” He murmurs, bending at the waist and sitting on his side of the bed, “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Lay down,” You push against his chest, helping him recline against his pillows, “I’ll be right back, B.”

You change quickly, too eager to crawl into bed beside Bradley to care that you’ve left one bite of burger and a few lone fries on the counter. Ants be damned, you’ll clean up tomorrow. When you emerge from the closet you wriggle happily beneath the covers next to Bradley, flicking the light by the doorway off so that all that’s left is your bedside lamp.

When you settle on your pillow he’s already looking at you, and the tip of his nose bumps your own. You melt into a girlish giggle, something that a teenager would produce after a particularly bad pickup line and a single red rose.

“Hi,” You gush, overjoyed to have him so close again. You kiss his nose in your fervent enthusiasm, and he smiles sleepily against his pillow.

“Hi,” He hums, reaching for your waist and pulling you close, “C’mere.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” You stiffen, but he molds your body to his anyways, “Brad, be careful.”

“I will be! I said it before, you can’t break me. Just let me hold you.”

You croon a sad sound as he wraps you in his arms, a sound of longing, of adoration, of grief. He clocks it as sweetness, though, and holds you close. Your face is buried in his chest and you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks.

“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-”

“Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?”

He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.”

Settling into his embrace has never been so easy. Since the moment you'd been in them for the first time only hours old in the hospital, you’d known his arms were made for holding you. They’ve been yours for as long as you can remember, even longer than that according to the photo album you’d skimmed through earlier. Bradley had been the third person to hold you, second only to your parents. Sure, he couldn’t remember it either, and Nick and Carole were probably doing most of the work keeping you balanced in his little lap, but the point is, he was made for holding you, and you were made for being held by him. Your face tucks so naturally under the curve of his chin and your lips press even easier to his throat, kissing at his voice that you love so much. It comes out to thank you for the adoration in a gentle hum, one that thrums against your lips.

His hands revel in their access to the extent of your back, brushing and roving and stroking over every inch of the space he’s granted. It’s ticklish but you don’t dare squirm, letting his fingers send miniscule bolts of electricity through your skin.

“I love you,” He reminds you as he holds you close, the sleepiness fogging his brain clear as day in his voice, “I really, really do.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You promise, kissing up his chin to his lips. The pecks you plant there are short, sweet, and chaste, but when you’re done laying them over his face you decide that you want to fall asleep facing him, not hidden away in his chest. Sure, it’s warm and safe there, but you can’t drift off to his sweet face if you can’t see it.

Your solution is to plop your head back onto your pillow, throwing a leg over his waist to keep yourself close. His eyes are droopy, and hold all of the tender sweetness of the puppies he so often resembles. He’s clearly exhausted, and your own eyes slip shut at the sight of his struggling to stay open.

“Night, Brad.” You yawn, settling against your pillow with the tip of your nose brushing his own, “Welcome home.”

“Night, baby. Love you,” He gushes, as if you hadn’t just exchanged the words seconds prior. But it feels good, it feels right, so you say it back.

“Love you, too.” You use the last of your energy to reciprocate, sleep taking hold of you in its comforting embrace. You slip away like sand into unconsciousness, all of your thoughts about love, and life, and Bradley, and none of the horrific possibility of his memories returning. Nothing’s going to ruin this moment for you, not now.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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beomboomboom · 8 months ago

Text

Boy's a Liar

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, drunken confession

pairing: Mingyu x reader

summary: Yes, it's not good to lie to your best friend of 10 years after drunkenly confessing to them. But, desperate times call for desperate measures, and this definitely counts as a desperate time.

warnings: mentions of drinking and alcohol

note: I originally wrote this on Mingyu's birthday, but wasn't able to post this until now. So I guess happy late Mingyu day 😭! This fic is part of an ask for drunken confession fics. Enjoy reading <33

"Can we talk about what happened yesterday?"

Mingyu freezes when he hears your words from his phone, already knowing exactly what you're on about.

It was a mistake.

A stupid mistake that will probably cost him his friendship with you.

So, in a fit of desperation, Mingyu chooses to value his friendship with you over his feelings by doing what seems to be the only way out.

Lying.

Which in hindsight, was a terrible idea.

"Uh...what about yesterday?"

"You know...when you confessed?"

"I don't remember ever doing that? You must've been dreaming. How much did you drink last night??" With every word Mingyu lets out, he feels a pang of guilt. Yes, it's not good to lie to your best friend of 10 years after drunkenly confessing to them. But, desperate times call for desperate measures, and this definitely counts as a desperate time.

"oh...nevermind then," he hears your disappointed voice say on the other end of the line before uttering a quick goodbye and hanging up.

Mingyu sits on his bed in a guilty silence before groaning at the unfortunate way things turned out.

He wasn't supposed to reveal his more-than-just-best-friend love to you last night. But one drink with you quickly turned into ten, and before he knew it he was telling you how much he loved you and wanted you to be in his life forever.

And with the way you responded...

Wait.

How exactly did you respond to his confession?

Mingyu furrows his brow as he tries to remember what happened but to no avail.

It's not until later when he's cleaning the couch, where you and him drank, when he remembers.

And that's when the regret of lying to you starts to kick in.

"You're so pretty," Mingyu murmurs fondly while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "And a bit blurry, but you're definitely always so pretty."

"Mingyu...don't say things you don't mean," you say warily. As much as you wanted to believe what he was saying and kiss him on his lips, you were on your fourth drink and Mingyu on his fifth. So at that point you both were pretty tipsy and practically saying nonsense to one another. Which was why you thought he was just joking at first.

But it seemed less like a joke when he replied smoothly while scooching closer to you to lean his head on your shoulder," No, I mean it. I like you. Let's be together forever."

"I like you too Mingyu, you're my best friend," you reply, still unclear about what kind of 'like' he meant. The friend kind or the more than friend kind? But thankfully, in only seconds your question was quickly answered.

"Noo, I meant I like like you. Like, I like you so much I love you."

Your heart speeds up the minute you hear his clarification, happiness flushing through your entire body at the realization that what you thought was a one-sided crush wasn't one-sided after all.

"Oh Mingyu, you should've told me sooner. I like you too."

Your words play over and over again in Mingyu's head. He just can't believe it.

You.

Liking him.

He didn't have to lie out of fear for ruining his friendship with you anymore, not when he could have a relationship with you instead.

He didn't have to lie, period.

Because now he was stuck with resolving all the problems his lies caused him.

Taking out his phone, Mingyu quickly dials your number, and lets out a nervous scream when you pick up within seconds.

"I'm sorry, I was lying."

"Wait what?" Mingyu can hear your voice amid the background clatter of the dishes that you're probably washing right now in the doggy slippers he had gifted you for your birthday. "Mingyu, give me some context here."

"I was lying about not remembering when I drunkenly confessed to you," Mingyu explains while pacing back and forth in his room nervously.

"And, why would you do that?" you question after a pause of silence.

"I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Loosing you," Mingyu admits sheepishly.

"Okay, give me a second. I'm coming over to your house," you reply suddenly, Mingyu being able to hear the rustle of your jacket and keys as you make your way to the car.

"Wait why a-," Mingyu begins to question before you hang up on him, leaving him in a state of confusion.

"Hey-," Mingyu says when he sees you outside his front door, "why did you hang up on me?"

"Because-," you begin to say before gently taking Mingyu's face in your hands and making him lean down so that you can give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Because I've been wanting to do that for so long."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu fanfic #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you #kim mingyu x y/n

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koolades-world · 7 months ago

Note

can i have the om brothers dealing with insomniac+workaholic!mc? Diavolo made a grave fucking mistake when unwillingly inviting mc to the devildom. can't sleep? work. bored? work. have nothing else to do? ask Lucifer or Diavolo for more work to do, or maybe cook something for Beel.

also, insomnia isn't easy to deal with. they have to pull out the strongest sleep potion or magic out there for that fucker to sleep. "oh have you tried melatonin?" YES I HAVE?? I'VE TRIED- "do you turn off your lights when you go to sleep?" no, i sleep with the lights on-- OF COURSE I TURN OFF THE LIGHTS YOU FUCKIN BALL LICKER. "maybe stop being on that phone of yours at late at night.." I CAN'T FUCKING SLEEP SO I MIGHT AS WELL DO SOMETHING.

whenever mc runs out of things to do, they re-do an assignment that got less than a 100% score.. someone drag this dymbfuck away from their work..

can i be🍷anon? or glass-eater anon? :3

hello!! yes, of course

those are both amazing anon names haha, welcome to the anon crew

enjoy <3

Workaholic Insomniac Mc

Lucifer

you can bet both of yall are making eye contact in the hallway at four am, and neither of you have slept

he gets you bestie

however he's willing to acknowledge both of you are practicing an unhealthy habit

together, you can take days off and as much as you itch to do work, you can stop each other. what a fun bonding activity!

Mammon

this is just like dealing with lucifer so he knows the drill

let you work as much as you want during the day without shirking your other responsibilities, but after dinner, he's dragging you away from it by the back of your shirt

when he can't fall asleep, he goes for a night drive, to nowhere in particular

so, he always invites you, because he knows you can't say no to him

Levi

he's also almost always awake at odd hours of the night, so he's always available

he would not be great to work in the same room as though

however he is willing to get you away from your work for a while to play some games with him

he knows that you need time away from that paper work and as much as you want to go back to it, he'll keep you with him until you complete the level. mark his word haha

Satan

will help you make those sleeping potions, or has solomon make some for you

if you ever want help with your work, he's willing to lend a hand, even though he knows you almost always say no

whenever you're awake at night, he'll come and sit where ever you're sitting to read so you'll have company

more often than not, he and belphie are next to you while you work as a silent indicator of what, or who, is waiting for you when you're done or want to take a break

Asmo

he fully believes in relaxing before bed and since he loves it so much, he suggests you try it with him

the first night you tried didn't really go as planned because he got a little overexcited so you had to try again the next night

that goes much better, and while it wasn't instant sleep, it was certainly better than staring at the ceiling for hours

plus, you get to spend time with asmo! who doesn't want that?

Beel

he won't lie he does enjoy the occasional impromptu meal you make for him when you've really got no more work to do (which is rare)

but he's concerned about you

honestly he thinks you're just like lucifer, you sincerely care about those around you and you work with them in mind

if you ever find random refreshments on your desk in the few moments you were gone, just know it was probably him

Belphie

as the self proclaimed king of sleep, he's always going out of his way to try and help you out

sometimes he falls asleep on your bed waiting for you to join him, while satan is still somehow going strong with his reading

if he notices you sitting at your desk for far too long, he'll start to whine and complain until you get in bed with him

sometimes, while he feels guilty, he'll use his power to help you fall asleep faster and give you a sweet dream that's usually about him

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me lucifer #obey me beel #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date

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ummmlife · 1 year ago

Text

Miserable Salaryman!Nanami ( pt. 2 )

part 1

Warnings!: pure nsfw (mdni) ; needy Nanami ; headcanon ; miserable Nanami (i love him) ; afab reader ; pussydrunk Nanami ; overstimulation ; cunnilingus ; he's just so cute :(.

Your poor boyfriend has been edging himself since the morning. This was his fault, he accidentally looked at his album of nudes that you have sent to him, poor man has been dealing with a painful boner all his way to work and in the office. But now he's at home.

— "I can't hold it anymore, dear… please… please let me fuck you". His day wasn't the best either, he made a mistake with some documents and his boss scolded him to the point where he was simply holding his tears back, he's so stressed and needy. Kento doesn't waste more time and hugs you tightly as he kisses you, basically sliding his tongue to your throat.

On the bed, on the couch, on the floor even. Nanami simply gets on top of you, eagerly removing your clothes with his shaking hands. He wants to do it so badly and he knows you won't complain, but he feels guilty, guilty of using you like this. He simply doesn't deserve you.

— "You… You're so gorgeous, my love". Kento can't help but keep making out with you as you also help him to remove his clothes. Once you're completely naked, just like him, he starts leaving a thread of kisses from your neck to your pelvis, kissing also your inner thighs. — "All this for me? My… I don't deserve you, you're way too precious to have this pathetic man eating you out…". Nanami moves his nose closer to your clit, pressing it gently with the tip of his nose to then start sniffing the scent of your minge. — "So, bon appetit".

Kento is a foodie and his favorite food is your own wet pussy. He eats you as if you were a continental breakfast, sucking your clit softly as the tip of tongue moves up and down to stimulate you.

His big hands are pressed on your hips to keep you stay still as he moves his tongue to your hole, drinking your juices like a thirsty dog. — "So wet, so good. Oh god, babe". His eyebrows frown in delight as he keeps eating you with devotion. No whines or moans from you could stop him, not even when you reach your climax and he keeps leeching his mouth to your pussy to keep tasting your cum.

His mouth is all dirty with your cream but he looks at you with devotion, adoring you as his goddess. — "I love you…". You could lie if you don't find him just so damn adorable like this.

But my god, he's not done yet. Kento wipes your cum from his mouth with his arm and moves up to kiss you, now you should be more than ready for his big dick. He slowly slides inside your dripping cunt as he hugs you tightly. — "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, hah. You're so tight". He's ashamed of enjoying how your walls squeeze his length in a welcoming warm hug. — "I'm sorry, dear, I'm so sorry". You don't know why he apologizes so much, but he sounds so needy when he says that.

Nanami thrusts into you hard and sloppy, putting all his weight on you, kissing you nonstop. — "Hmm, love. Oh, my dear, you feel so good…". All the stimulation makes him squirm of pleasure as he fucks you even faster.

His thick cock is stretching your hole so damn good that he's turning you into a dumb plaything. — "Too much, babe… Ah, I'm sorry, can't help it. You're so wet". With each forceful thrust, Nanami reaches a new whole level of delight. — "Darling, oh darling… Mhm, taking me s'well, hah".

Yes, Kento whimpers, but he whimpers even more when he's about to cum. — "Honey, honey, please… Hah, take me, let me fill you, please". You could hear his balls slapping against your ass repeatedly in an erratic rhythm while jack-hammered into your warm and sticky cunt. — "... Gonna cum, honey. I'm gonna fill you. Ngh!"

Even if he just came and fills your cunt with his warm and soft jizz, he won't stop thrusting into you until you cum as well. — "S'good, darling… fuck, too much". He's getting overstimulated and his whole body is squirming and shaking, but he keeps going, hitting your sweet spot until you cum with his cock.

Poor man is crying and fucking your hole all overstimulated, you already came but he keeps torturing himself like this — "Please… babe… so good". He lets out a big sob and collapses on your chest, sniveling softly. — "I'm sorry, I'm a mess, I didn't mean to… Ugh, you're so good, my love".

Please hug him and tell him that you don't mind all the mess nor all him cum leaking from your pussy. — "Thank you… I love you".

*ugly sobs* I WANT HIM!!! A big tough man crying for me after we [REDACTED]

#nanami headcanons #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami kento smut #jjk nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #salaryman!nanami #miserable!nanami #nanami jujutsu kaisen #. bibi's writing

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justcallmehappy · 7 months ago

Text

“Rain”

(Step 2) Qiu Lin x gn!MC

Synopsis: Rain was always bittersweet to you. However, for Mx. Qiu Lin, it was the opposite. They find the rain calming, so why is it that Qiu and your opinions have switched today?

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: this was angstier than i meant it to be… also, i haven’t written in a bit so i’m pretty rusty. still, i hope you enjoy!

A song to listen to while reading:

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

Thump!

Your backpack drops onto the floor, utterly soaked. Of course, you are, too.

You made the mistake of not checking the weather to see if it would rain today. Since it was so sunny this morning, you simply assumed it would be nice and warm all day.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Ugh…”

Still standing in the entryway, you peel your sweater off, scrunching your nose up at the sensation that never fails to make the hairs on your arms prickle.

Though it’s safe to say the weather isn’t the only thing that’s dampened your mood.

Tamarack caught a cold; another reason as to why you were in this predicament in the first place.

She always makes sure to check the weather.

The floorboards creak as you make your way up the stairs and into your room to get changed into something a little less soggy.

Normally you would shower, but your fingers itched to glide across the keys of your beloved piano.

Ah yes, your piano.

Qiu used to joke that you enjoyed the object’s company more than their own; that was a lie, of course.

When you moved into Golden Grove, your mother offered to sign you up for some extra curricular activities; that included piano.

Quickly, you fell in love with the instrument. It was sort of an escapism for you; a way to tell a beautiful story without having to say a word.

And so, you bound down the stairs, emitting a loud groan from creaky old things as you eagerly approach the beautiful baby grand.

A soft smile eases its way onto your lips as you stand in front of the sheek instrument. Gently, you run a finger over the shiny, black surface.

A thin layer of dust goes along with your finger as you pull away, but you pay it no mind as you turn to the strewn about pile of sheet music on top of the piano.

Shuffling through the papers, you find a song you’ve recently learned; all on your own, outside of private lessons.

You deem that its nostalgic sound is fitting for a day like today, and promptly pull out the piano bench your mother had bought from the antique store just for you.

You sit down on the familiar, worn mahogany cushion as you place the music onto the stand.

Your fingers hover over their starting positions as your eyes trace the familiar bars of music.

Then, you begin to play.

Qiu lets out a long sigh as they stare out their window, sprawled across their bed.

This is what they’ve been doing for the past fifteen minutes; just… lying there, watching the rain droplets fall.

There’s something about rainy days that’s always managed to calm Qiu’s restless mind. However, today is different.

They feel… off.

Unsettled.

Uncomfortable.

Why? Well, that’s the very same thing they’re mulling over right now.

“Tamarack’s sick; but that can’t be it…”

After all, the two aren’t friends anymore.

Qiu’s brows furrow at the thought and their mind drifts to someone they are friends with.

You.

You, still the kind and caring kid you’ve been since you first met on that fateful day a little over four years ago now.

Sometimes Qiu would feel guilty; their relationship with Tamarack surely put you in an awkward position, but you’d never shown any signs of discomfort, much less talked about it.

You’ve always managed to intercept and mediate any arguments they’ve had, though they’d be an idiot to miss the worried and tired undertones of your voice and expressions.

Of course, Tamarack never noticed.

Stupid Tamarack.

Qiu rolls over onto their back, fixing their gaze onto their off-white ceiling.

When they were little they used to beg their parents to put up little glow in the dark stars on the ceiling so it could look like they were staring at the sky as they fall asleep, but their parents refused, saying it would just wake them up more.

Qiu still didn’t understand their logic; the stars are relaxing, fake or not.

Suddenly, they sit up.

They’d reached a conclusion; they’d go over to your house. You’d know a way to entertain them, no matter how much you complained that you weren’t their jester.

Qiu’s legs swing over the side of their bed as they get up to retrieve their navy blue damp coat from the sad pile in the middle of the floor.

Zipping up their jacket, they quietly shuffle down their stairs and to where they left their shoes earlier.

Their father was busy on a meeting with a client and their mother was out on a grocery trip.

Not that they need permission to visit you.

The fluffy rim of their hood tickles them as they pull it up and open their front door.

Whoosh!

Their hood is immediately blown off and a cold, stinging sensation barrades their face.

They frown and wipe their cheeks of the relentless droplets that just pelted them.

Qiu suppresses a shiver as they once again pull up their hood, this time clutching it to their head.

A huff comes from their mouth, a white cloud of breath with it; it shouldn’t take this much effort just to see what their neighbor is doing, but it does.

That annoys them.

However, deep down, they know that you’d do the same for them if they ever called on you.

Which Qiu hasn’t. And Qiu won’t.

They trudge through the long, grueling two minute walk to your house. However, instead of going to the front door, they decide to go to the back, just to switch things up a little.

There’s already been so much change these past few months, why not sprinkle in a little more?

They groan as they realize just how much more suffering they’re putting themselves through just by that one harmless decision.

But it’d be worth it.

As they approach your back door, they’re about to knock until they hear a quiet melody from inside.

Their fist hovers over the damp, wooden door as a delicate set of notes float through the air.

The wind gently pushes Qiu’s hood down again but they pay it no mind, instead blankly staring at the door in front of them.

Their bottom lip snags between their teeth as they clench their fists.

Damn it. They really didn’t feel like getting emotional today.

Why was the melody so sad yet happy at the same time?

Before they knew it, rain drops weren’t the only thing rolling down their cheeks.

As the gentle song plays through the air, Qiu’s gaze lowers to the porch beneath them. Their previous fist, now a limp hand, rests at their side.

Now they know why they’re crying.

This song gave them a sense of familiarity; their uncertainty of their identity yet at the same time, complete security in their friendship with you.

…Friendship.

That’s all it is. At least, that’s what they keep telling themselves.

Qiu sniffles, wiping a tear.

Why can’t they just be honest with themself?

You’ve always been special to them; they knew that. But they didn’t know if it was a friend kind of special or a romantic kind of special.

“…No,”

They murmur softly.

“…Not yet.”

Your fingers rest on the keys as you play the final chord of the song, smiling quietly to yourself.

Something about this song reminds you of Qiu. You can’t quite put a finger on why, but you thought that if Qiu were a song, this would be them.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, a flash of navy blue passes by the window in a familiar shape.

Your brows furrow as your gaze shifts to the backdoor of your home. Slowly, you stand.

You make your way over to the door, gripping the handle. Gently, you pull the door open.

“…Qiu?”

However, only the heavy rainfall greets you back.

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

#fics #our life now and forever #our life #ol2 #olnf #olnf qiu #qiu lin #light angst #x reader #x you #now and forever #Spotify

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chizups · 21 days ago

Text

John Seed x Salome Ann Clock fanfiction that kicks off the Family Tree AU

- You think you're doing everything right, but you're making a mistake... - You're still alive?! What luck! - Wha... - John Seed, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say... - I know my rights! - Very convenient. - Are you going to judge me? - beaten badly, he still laughed condescendingly, but his laughter quickly turned into a cough when the Deputy tugged at the handcuffs that were clasped around John's wrists. - No, that's not in my line. You and your brothers will appear before a real judge at a real court hearing. - Oh spare me this nonsense and just kill me already... - Absolutely not. - Do you think there's any point in your legal theatre? I know all of this! I'm a lawyer! - So that's another reason to keep you alive, Seed: I want to be present at the court and hear how you'll get out of the mess your family has made here.

***

Scattered throughout the county, those were not even cellars - real fortified shelters. Most of them were not deep, but equipped for living, not for storing jars of jam only. Mostly abandoned, thanks to Seeds. One of these shelters turned out to be very handy...

There was no more suitable place to keep John at that moment. Seed had to be hidden from everyone. All the participants in this last fight against The Inquisitor, including his religiously charged followers and Salome's injured colleagues, thought she shot the bastard, and she was absolutely sure that if they knew that The Deputy kept him alive and safe, they would want to save John from Salome's grasp, or take his life with their own hands. And the sheriff's deputy would remain guilty in any case.

Covered in blood and bruises, both miraculously reached the underground shelter unnoticed. John was surprisingly obedient, no screaming, no calls for help. He only stumbled occasionally, walking caused him obvious discomfort. Which, of course, was not surprising after all the chasing and shootouts on the ground and in the sky. Somehow deputy Clock managed to push the younger Seed into the hatch, helped him down the ladder, and locked John in a smaller corner right next to the bathroom. Not like there were many options anyway, but this spot conveniently had metal mesh on a steel frame that could be locked from the outside with a key. Apparently, the former owner of the cellar also used it to keep prisoners of his own... Cultists perhaps. The "brave resistance fighters" were no strangers to torturing when they thought it needed to be done. Seed did not resist much, and Salome hoped that it was not because his strength was leaving him forever allowing death come closer. Whoever was kept here before, now John was sitting here. After closing the door behind his back with a metal clank deputy did not bring the keys even close to it.

***

When Deputy Clock was coming out into the day light, she told everyone who asked that John Seed was shot. Sometimes they asked some clarifying questions, and Salome had to lie: shot him, left him in the field, went away, doesn’t know what happened next. Fortunately, most people didn’t need more clearance that that, they believed their savior deputy from the first word. No wonder, since John had caused the residents of Holland Valley so much… troubles? Salome couldn't bring herself to call all the horrors and sorrows that ordinary people had experienced just troubles. Such a small word for this torture...

She felt awkward lying too. He was alive, after all. She told about that awkwardness to John herself, laughing in an attempt to hide her true feelings about Seed and all the lying.

John was freaking out the first couple of times Salome visited him, threw a few tantrums, but after that he became surprisingly calm and attentive to all of her confessions, as he preferred to call them. Ironically, Salome Ann Clock now lied to everyone except him.

***

- I brought you some food, Seed!

- How generous of you, - the prisoner muttered.

- I don't want you to shrivel up to death before your trial! - she spoke in a deliberately positive tone. A little mockingly, but John didn't buy it. His soul was troubled by completely different thoughts.

Deputy checked on him quite often. As was said, she didn't want him to croak from hunger, cold or some injury that John had already managed to inflict on himself without her supervision. Back then, in the moment, she didn't understand how it happened and didn't suspect the reasons, but her prisoner almost broke his arm from hitting the wall. Salome had to handcuff him through the bars, open the mesh door, treat his bloody hand, which John was extremely unhappy about of course, but he didn't kick too much either. The same thing happened when he cut himself. A monster that Inquisitor kept inside his body was tormenting him by a manic itch, but it had no one to sharpen its claws on except him. Fortunately, the cuts weren't deep at all.

Surely, somewhere deep inside, Seed felt gratitude for the attention, but he did not want to express it out loud. In the end, overcoming himself, he squeezed out, not without sarcasm, "thank you, what would I do without your tender care," and then was filled with hatred for himself and his feelings. He had long since begun to like the sheriff's deputy, and it infuriated him greatly. All this courtesy from Salome, good food, their conversations brought them both much more pleasure than they were willing to admit.

***

An agreement with Faith Seed was not achieved. Not because she was too stubborn. On the contrary, at some point it even seemed to Salome that girl was panicking and ready to do anything, just to survive the encounter, just so The Deputy would stop fighting with her. After all, that deputy was winning. Despite the Bliss on Faith's side, which was supposed to become an obstacle for Salome.

- This gas was everywhere... I didn't understand what was reality and what was an illusion. I wouldn't have been sure of her death if it wasn't for the explosion in the bunker... Killing her was not the plan at all.

- You couldn't have done otherwise, - John stated from behind the bars kindly and calmly, - she will be mourned, but her death is also part of God's plan.

- The one Joseph is talking about? - Salome asked with a bitter smile.

- The one Joseph is talking about. And the Lord himself told Joseph, - the prisoner clarified once again, pointing his index finger at the ceiling.

Deputy, however, also noticed a sadden, irritated note in his voice. It seemed that only Joseph himself was one hundred and twenty percent sure of Joseph's grand destiny.

Salome responded to this with only a lowered head, a resigned nod. It's been a long time since she stopped rolling her eyes, listening to this... nonsense? It sounded less and less crazy with each passing day.

***

So much blood on her hands already. She washed them diligently, yet still felt the layer of death up to the elbows. This feeling had become familiar in the north of the county. Was scared to return to the wolves' den.

"But you will return, you have no choice"

John Seed said comfortingly, and Salome looked at him with all the concern in her eyes, with all the anxiety that had been accumulating in her since the moment she first fell into Jacob's hands. And her gaze met John's blue eyes, so kind, it would seem, but so cold, sobering. Deputy felt uneasy. He was right. She had to return to the wolves' den.

It was not of heroine's own free will that she returned. It was not of her own free will that she killed Eli Palmer. Both weren't close, not friends at all, but Salome cared. Guilt filled her up to eyes. However, for some reason she wanted to blame herself, or Eli, his comrades for his death, but not Jacob Seed. As if it wasn't he who literally brainwashed deputy Clock to commit this very murder, but she who weren't diligent enough in her resistance. And Salome wasn't able to resist later either.

***

Hallucinations, waves of Hunters, packs of Judges, traps, snipers, gunfire and explosions, and still Jacob Seed escaped. Just now he was in front of the deputy, wounded, bleeding, repeating the same things as the rest of this family: Joseph is right, Joseph knows, Joseph is making a sacrifice… And then he was gone. Maybe he was just another hallucination, but later Salome heard cultists mourning one of their leaders. Brother Jacob, it seemed, was dead after all. But if not…

***

"Leave me my flock, take your friends and go."

All comrades in arms, all the friends deputy "Sunny" had made in Hope County, the ones she had helped, and who had helped her, were standing there with guns in their hands. Surrounded by the Bliss. And they were aiming at Salome. At her and her colleagues. Even Wheaty, who just last night had been shouting about him being ready to suppress the remnants of the cult, to drive them off this land, to destroy the Eden's Gate once and for all... Joseph had made him his as if with a snap of his fingers. Him. And Tammy and Jess, and Father Jerome, and all the others... As if there had been no struggle, no resistance, no opposition to the cult. As if The Father could have controlled the situation all this time, turned it in the direction he wanted. Maybe he had. In any case, Salome's thirst for struggle began to dry up when she realized the amount of control that Joseph Seed had in his hands.

"Okay... We're leaving."

Joseph let her go along with her colleagues. They rose from their knees, not without some bickering, but got into the car. Salome did too. SUV started moving. Joseph and his "flock" treated by Bliss remained standing at the open doors of the church, watching sheriff's vehicle closely, while deputy Clock was afraid to even glance at the rearview mirror. She thought the horror was still there. She thought that at least for her it was all over, finally. Until the sheriff turned on the radio...

"Only you-u-u-u..."

Time to cull the herd...

***

That red mist fell from Salome's eyes as she was walking along the road. It was a wonder she hadn't jumped off a cliff or a bridge, under a truck maybe, while still hearing that hellish song in her head, hearing the voice of the deceased Jacob. Salome had no idea if there even were any passing cars on her way. She hoped not. For obvious reasons... The red haze went away, deputy saw blood on her hands, on her shirt. The gun, tightly clenched in tense fingers, was also covered in red fingerprints. Former heroine, now finally feeling like a worthless bastard of a killer, hurried away from the road, went down to the river and looked at the reflection in the water. Blood on her face, on her neck, hair on the ends seemed to be soaked in a dark red liquid as well. A lump formed in deputy's throat, panic began to rise along with the realization. Palms suddenly scooped up cold river water, splashed in face, shirt, rubbed her hair, wiped away traces... whose, she didn't want to think at all, but given the last memories available, everything seemed completely obvious: Salome Ann Clock killed sheriff Whitehorse, killed Stacey Pratt and killed Joey Hudson - the people for whose sake she was busting her ass all this time. Probably shot them, but judging by the amount of blood, fires came from a shotgun, no less. They didn't expect it, most likely didn't even have time to understand that they had to defend themselves... Just as Seed said, Salome was now all alone. A tool that had served its purpose. Where was she supposed to go? No friends, no colleagues... Drag herself back to Joseph Seed in disgrace? Definitely not. Looking for a car and trying to escape from this place of madness also seemed impossible. And, to be completely frank, wrong. And scary. Her legs, however, brought Salome to a place now known only to Salome. And another person...

***

She was always coming into the shelter with a "hello", trying to maintain a positive attitude. At least visually. God forbid John Seed would think that his family outside was doing well. Even if later Salome told him about her struggles and the heaviness of burden that was placed upon her. All in all, she usually hoped that her apparent cheerfulness irritated John Seed at least a little. Today, Salome didn't care anymore.

The hatch opened with a creak, closed the same way. The soles of deputy's boots clattered heavily and hopelessly on the metal steps. She entered a long narrow room, where John could see her silhouette almost immediately, sitting behind the bars at the other end of this corridor. He didn't say a word. Salome took the keys from the table with which she locked John's makeshift cage - kept them in plain sight as a playful mockery - slowly, almost dragging her feet, approached, inserted them into the keyhole and turned. Youngest Seed rose from the floor, slightly confused, but, as was always the case with him, ready to listen to Clock in the hope that she would tell him something useful.

"I give up. Joseph won. You won. Go wherever you want..."

John froze for a few moments, and then jerked towards the exit, pushing Salome with his shoulder, to which, however, she did not consider it necessary to react even. Deputy simply remained standing, soaked in water, sweat and blood of people she wanted to save, and, God knows who else. Seed took a few long strides towards the exit, but as soon as he crossed the room, he stopped in the doorway, turned around and spoke.

- What happened to you?

Salome turned to him, but her eyes did not meet his. Usually higher, more optimistic female voice was now dry, tired, her words dripping with grief, for she felt nothing more clearly than this exact feeling.

- I am alone. I have no more strength to fight. And I see no point in it. You can go.

She suddenly felt goosebumps run across her skin - from the cold, Salome was shivering.

- You don't need to fight. You didn't have to from the very beginning. But now that you have learned your lesson, what are you going to do? Lie here and die?

She barely shrugged in response to his questions. Eyes scanned the room for something useful, although Salome herself did not yet understand what she was looking for. John returned to his warden with the same brisk steps, squeezed her shoulders, forcing to turn and look at him.

- Joseph saw you. Before he met you! He knew it would be like this! After everything that happened, don't you realize that you are destined to enter the Gates of Eden? To survive the Collapse and enter a new world!

Salome shook his hands off, suddenly bursting into rage.

- I don't believe in this crap! I don't believe in it, John! It's all bullshit! - her voice broke into a scream, - Yes, you got yourself a cult, you were preparing for the end of the world, but it will not happen! Your brother is sick, you are sick, you followed his lead, because with such a narrative you can do anything, any means are justified. But the Collapse is complete sh…

As if on command, the sound of an explosion was heard. Distant, but clear and loud enough to interrupt Salome's fiery hysteria. Seconds later, the earth began to shake, destruction outside quite obviously: trees were cracking, something was falling to the ground, onto a house standing nearby to a hatch under which Salome and John were dumbfounded with shock and horror. The wind rose, dragging something very heavy along the ground. As if the Lord himself heard Salome and decided to show in this way that it was time to shut the fuck up and believe. Now deputy jerked towards the exit, her eyes wide in panic, in disbelief, mouth babbling “no, no, no, it can’t be.” Her shaking hands were thrown forward in the desire to reach the door frame as quickly as possible, then to the ladder, to climb up, to lift the hatch cover, to see everything with her own eyes and make sure that maybe she just imagined it, that it wasn’t real. Salome didn’t even reach the doorway – was stopped by John. He grabbed her hand, but Clock pulled it away, so he abruptly jumped around her figure and, wrapping both of his hands around, lifted terrified woman off the floor, not letting her take even a couple of steps.

- Let me go!

- Stop kicking! The Collapse happened, you don't have to go to your death to believe it!

- It can't be, it can't be! - her attempts to break free quickly came to naught, she slid down onto John's chest, still longingly looking at the stairs over his shoulder, leading up, outside, where all the horror of the Collapse was happening now. They didn't know it yet, but everything around was burning. And that was it. The sky was invisible because of the red flashes of fire and the black trail of smoke. It didn't let anyone see, didn't let anyone breathe who hadn't managed to run and hide.

- It happened. We knew it would happen, we prepared for it. This is God's punishment, and it didn't touch you.

John was still holding Salome with both hands. He wasn't holding her back like he had a moment ago, but his embrace was still strong. With one hand he pressed Sunny's head to his shoulder. Their voices were quieter now. She was barely sobbing, more like breathing raggedly, her throat felt like it was being squeezed. John was saying in a quiet, almost lulling voice that Salome was saved, they will enter a new world, she will survive, survive everything. They would survive together.

- Why... It's the end.

- I want you to stay. Stay with me. There will be a new beginning, you'll see. Stay.

It sounded like he was trying to persuade her, not console, but Salome believed him. She had no strength left for anything else. Now for sure. Salome Ann Clock surrendered to circumstances. Surrendered to John Seed.

#oh my god IT'S SO LONG #I thought I'm gonna quickly translate it and throw in!#Oh well #far cry 5 #fc5 #fanfiction #john seed #oc: salome clock #oc x canon #right now i dont have the patience to proof read it proprely #so im sorry if some words are not wording #far cry family tree au #joseph seed #jacob seed #faith seed

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finallydelight · 2 years ago

Text

Heart To Heart | Ming Chapter

February 5, 2023

''What are you really doing back home?''

Ming's head swiftly glanced up from the scattered leaves on the ground to her younger brother, whose eyes were already on her. She furrowed her eyebrows. ''What do you mean, Woo?''

The unimpressed expression on his face was one she didn't get to meet often. ''You always let us know when you're coming home, this time you didn't. So, what's up with that? Is everything okay, Noona?''

The ''home'' Jungwoo referred to was their house in Daegu, the one she had surprisingly turned up to a few days earlier. Her youngest brother was correct about saying that she would always let someone of her small family know that she would be coming over. Whether it was through text or via a phone call, she'd always let someone know.

Ming should've known that someone would speak up about it, she hadn't expected that it would be the youngest of the family, however. Jungwoo never seemed like the observant type to her, he cared deeply for others, but normally he would wait for others to come to him.

Despite the nonchalant tone in his voice, the concern was visible on his face. Ming never liked making her loved ones worried about her, it made her feel guilty for some reason. She opted to lie and explain to him that there were no other intentions than just wanting to surprise her family, but she knew her brother would look right through her and tell her to not speak such lies to him.

''A lot of things happened back in Seoul and I need some time away, to be honest.'' It felt weird to her confiding to the youngest, the roles usually reversed.

Jungwoo nodded, his eyes not leaving hers. ''What happened? Something with the members?'' His question didn't come across as nosey or invasive, he was genuinely interested.

''No, everything's okay with the members,'' Ming assured him, ''it's just that…''

''There was this person that I really liked and they liked me back, but I made some mistakes that hurt their feelings. I went to talk to them and I apologized. I also told them that I loved them, but they, uh, told me that they think we shouldn't see each other anymore.'' She explained to him, describing the situation as vague as possible.

The younger man took her words in, happy his older sister gave in and told him her worries. ''Oh, that's not fun, especially cause you know they liked you back.''

A sarcastic chuckle left her lips. ''Yeah, my heart's been ripped apart.'' The contrast of the tone of her voice and the words she said made her brother not know what to say, struggling to understand if she could already joke about the incident or not.

''Well, you're a great person, so it's their loss anyway.'' He bumped their shoulders, a nervous laughter coming out. A small smile graced her face, her brother's support never failing to cheer her up. ''Thanks, Woo.''

''Things happen for a reason, you know? Whatever happens, let it happen.''

February 27, 2023

''Hi, bunny.'' Cheol walked into her room, watching her stare at the ceiling. Ming's vision didn't stray away from it, as if all her thoughts would go away if she looked at the leader.

He figured she had sunken deep into her own mind palette, her nose scrunched up and her eyes looked very intense. Cheol laid himself sideways next to her, watching her. ''You don't have to tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours, but I think you could use some company.''

''I've been feeling kinda empty these days… like there's just something missing, you know? I haven't felt that in a while and it's just not a nice feeling.'' Ming spoke up after a minute of silence.

''At first, I thought I missed my family a lot, so I visited them, but it didn't go away. I started working out again, I tried writing lyrics, I picked up my guitar again, I went on a small road trip with Soomin… hell, I even went cycling with Mingyu, I've tried everything.''

Cheol listened attentively, nodding his head to every word she said. ''How long have you been feeling like this?'' He asked her.

Ming thought for a few seconds, trying to recall when the emptiness washed over her. ''A few weeks now, I think. A couple days before I drove down to Daegu.'' She answered him, not totally sure about the timeline.

''Oh, poor kid… that's quite a long time,'' he caressed her head, sympathizing, ''I'm sure once we start rehearsing and performing again, you'll feel better.'' Cheol reasoned.

The younger woman nodded, agreeing with him. ''Yeah, I think so too. It's been a long time since I've been able to properly perform with all of you.''

''It kinda sucks that I'm fully recovered now, but then Myungho gets himself injured.'' Ming sighed, being reminded that it's still 13 members performing instead of all 14 members.

Cheol nodded, sighing as well. ''I know, it seems like there is some kind of curse around us.'' He laughed, pulling his phone out and typing something.

''Yeah,'' Ming chuckled, ''but he'll recover quickly, his isn't as bad as mine was. He can go to rehearsals and watch, I couldn't even get out of bed.''

''We shouldn't compare injuries, Hao is super upset that he can't dance.'' Cheol semi-scolded her, looking away from his phone. ''Hey, uh, have you spoken with, uh, Canada?'' He wasn't sure whether she wanted to talk about the NCT rapper or not.

Ming shook her head. ''No, but it's fine,'' she sighed, ''I guess I should focus on myself now, you know? We're both very busy people, so it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway.'' She told him, her words comforting herself.

The leader looked at her in pity, mentally hitting himself for bringing the topic up. ''He's not too busy to spy on your Insta, though.'' He mumbled.

Ming hit his chest, making the both of them burst out laughing. ''He's never been very subtle, I guess.'' She had been preparing for the special live broadcast for Carats' birthday when she saw her and Minhyung's name trending on social media. It had given her an immediate heart attack, scared that pictures had gotten leaked, but she calmed down when she read the articles. Ming didn't know how to feel about the fact that Minhyung had been lurking on her page, it was a conflicting matter.

Cheol's phone vibrated against her mattress, making him check the notification he had received. ''Hey, uh, I gotta go,'' he sat back up, ''if there's anything, just call me, okay?'' He ruffled her hair, swiftly getting out of her room.

''Okay, bye bye!''

March 1, 2023

''Alright, we're gonna go out, because I can't watch you mope around in your bed all day any longer.'' Minghao pulled the covers from her body, making Ming quickly cover herself with her arms at the sudden cold.

''No~'' she whined, ''let me rot away here in peace.'' Ming wasn't in the mood to leave her room, rather isolating herself from the world.

Minghao sighed as he sat down next to her, caressing her cheek. ''Look, I get that you haven't been feeling your best, but all I'm asking is just one hour of your time.'' He simply wanted her to get out of the dorm and take in some fresh air.

''Rehearsals are starting again soon, I'll go out then.'' Ming reasoned.

The Chinese man shook his head. ''Come on, Yerimie! I'll buy you food!'' He tried to bribe her, knowing that promising her food would be his best chance at getting her up from her bed.

He could see her contemplating his words, taking a few moments to think. ''Okay, but you have to give me anything I want.'' She slowly got out of her bed, wanting to change into something else than her pajamas.

Minghao adamantly nodded his head, delighted he could convince her. ''Of course, let me know when you're ready.'' He exited her room, giving her some privacy while she got out of her clothes.

It had been quite cold in Seoul from what she gathered, opting for baggy jeans, a gray sweater, a thick jacket and a white puffy hat to keep her head warm. Ming already felt her mood lift up a bit as she changed into her new clothing, maybe going out with Minghao wasn't such a bad idea.

As soon as Ming stepped out of her room, the two made their way downstairs and into the night life of Seoul. They stopped at several street food trucks and seemed to be making their way towards the Han River, where they would calmly enjoy their food and the beautiful visuals.

They had settled themselves against the railing, admiring the sight of the river and the bright stars that appeared in the sky. ''They have fried chicken in the little shop, you want me to get some?'' Minghao suggested, tilting his head towards the convenience store nearby.

The question brought her back to her first date with Minhyung at Han River, where they leaned against the tree while drinking coke and eating their ramen, and fried chicken from that exact same store. ''Uh, I'm alright, thanks.''

''Well, I'm going to get some myself, I'll be right back.'' With that he left and walked to the small shop, not putting much pace behind his steps.

Ming's attention fell back on the river in front of her, leaning her arms on the railing and watching the stars and Seoul lights reflect on the water. Her mind drifted to the events of the past weeks: going back home, supporting her members at Music Bank, celebrating Carats' birthday and her talk with Cheol.

A weird feeling bubbled inside of her, she couldn't explain it and it scared her a little. Maybe it was a sense of realization of where the emptiness came from. Deep inside her heart and mind she knew what the missing puzzle piece was, but she wasn't ready to admit that to herself yet. She wanted to spare herself from the pain it would come with, avoiding her feelings and thoughts had always been her coping mechanism.

During hard times, she wishes she could call up her mom and have her tell Ming what to do. There were many people she could call and who would be happy to give her useful advice, but the strengthening words of a mother could not be matched by anyone else. She would tell her daughter to take it slow, to take life as it is and to prioritize herself.

Her mind returned back to the present as she could hear Minghao's footsteps approach, making her scratch her throat and fix her posture.

''You called me Mark.''

Unlike she thought, it wasn't Minghao that had been creeping up on her. Ming quickly turned around, met with the young man she could recognize anywhere despite him being completely covered, so he was unrecognizable to everyone else.

Her eyes widened, looking around in search of her member. ''What are you doing?''

''You've never called me that.'' Minhyung ignored her question. He took few steps forward, so he was standing right in front of her.

Ming continued glancing around him, hoping no one was witnessing the moment. ''We're in public, are you fucking crazy?''

''I don't really care about that right now, Yer. I just- I want to say something to you, whether you want to listen to me or not, is your choice.'' She could see the cold breaths leave his mouth, smoking up in the cold air.

Minhyung continued in her silence. ''First, I want to apologize for what happened at Music Bank. I shouldn't have approached you like that and especially not after what happened at the dorm,''

''I've been wanting to talk to you about what happened then, but I figured you just wanted me to leave you alone, which I understand. But that's not what I want to tell you right now,''

''When you came to our dorm, I had just gotten off a 13-hour flight and I was beyond tired, and fans were being invasive at the airport, and all I wanted was some sleep, and then you showed up and I- I don't know. You started saying all that stuff about Yeonjun and that you were in love with me, and all I could think about was the image of you two kissing,''

He took a deep breath, the words coming out too fast for him. ''When I woke up, I realized what I had actually asked of you and what that meant for us, and I fucked up. I don't want to not see you anymore, I don't want to pretend that I don't know you, I want- I want, ugh, fuck…''

''What do you want, Minhyung?'' Ming asked him, her eyes fully focused on him.

His gaze fell upon her, the pair properly looking at each other for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. ''I want you. I want to kiss you. I want to go on walks with you. I want to be with you.'' He answered her question, almost out of breath.

Ming's eyes welled up, the tone in which he spoke was something she hadn't heard from him before. ''You- you what?''

Minhyung's left hand cupped her cheek, his eyes not leaving hers. ''I'm in love with you, Yer,'' her tears must have had an effect on him as his voice came out hoarse and she could see tears forming, ''I don't think I am, I know I am.''

''If you want to, I would like for us to start again. We'll start again and we'll do it better, we'll do it differently this time.'' He added, his free hand grabbing her arm.

Ming looked down at the floor, multiple tears falling down. ''Please tell me that you're serious, that this isn't some kind of cruel joke you're doing.'' She hated how desperate she sounded, but it couldn't be helped.

''I mean it, I'm being serious.'' Minhyung couldn't fight the urge anymore and wrapped his arms around her, his hand resting on the back of her head.

The two remained like that for a few minutes, reveling in the comfort each of them brought to one another. It was Ming who broke the silence first. ''How did you even know I was here?''

Minhyung chuckled at her question, wiping his hand over his dried tears. ''One of your members might have given me a scolding.''

She pulled away from him, her hands still holding onto him. ''What do you mean?'' Ming raised her eyebrow.

''Don't worry about it now, I needed it.'' He brushed it off, pulling her back in.

Ming was still overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events as she rested in Minhyung's arms, holding him close to her so he wouldn't magically disappear. The weird feeling had somehow found its way out of her body and she felt at peace.

Her puzzle was complete.

Taglist: @seolboba @cosmicwintr @mythicalamphitrite @billboard-singer @stopeatread @still-astray @sakuurra @multiplums @giverosespls @seongwhaffels @kimhyejin3108 @smoooore @smh-anon @cixrosie @allthings-fandoms @themalipirate

#ming.svt #kpop oc #kpop au #kpop addition #14th member of seventeen #seventeen 14th member #seventeen female member #seventeen female addition #seventeen oc #seventeen extra member #coups x oc #minghao x oc

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lavendertales · 2 years ago

Text

Sweet lies: Chapter 6

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: Frankie’s relationship with Andrea takes a surprising turn; in the meantime, you spend a girl’s night with Rose, desperately trying to forget what happened on Valentine’s Day, only for the night to end with a stupid decision.

word count: 4k

Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

gif: @conveniently-available

series masterlist | AO3

His heart’s still racing, nearly twenty four hours later. Sleep eluded him throughout the night, and nothing could make him feel less fidgety or anxious.

He fucked up. Again. Only this time he’s hurt more than one person in the process.

Frankie hadn’t bolted out of a social gathering like that since—ever. When he returned inside the bungalow, all of his friends were staring at him as he was roaming around in a haste, gathering his things and muttering some rushed apology about why he had to leave. It was shitty, maybe, but he had to get out of there. He couldn’t handle the shocked look on your face, more so the implications of what he had just done.

Most importantly, he couldn’t handle the thought at the back of his mind, nastily whispering to him “more”.

He had to go, he had to rush back home and wait for the next day, when he could go to the airport to pick up Andrea. His fiancé.

Oh God. Oh God, this is bad. This is so fucking bad.

Now, as he’s driving to the airport, his mind spins seemingly wild, but in the sea of incoherent thoughts, some manage to get themselves in a line, thus devising a plan of action.

First, he will explain everything to Andrea. He will apologize and grovel, tell her that it meant nothing, that it was some stupid, tipsy decision because he was missing her so much, and hope she’ll forgive him.

And then, he’ll explain everything to you.

He will apologize to you as well, tell you that he wasn’t thinking straight and that the moment was just a misunderstanding, a wrong move on his part, and hope that you will forgive him for this, and for the way he’s hurt you before.

So the plan is to lie.

But it’s because he cares about both you and Andrea that he cannot hurt either one of you, not any more than he already has. He’s spent most of his twenties next to Andrea, actively choosing her and building a future with her, and he knows where his loyalty should be. But he also knows that he’s hurt you, and he wants to at the very least earn your forgiveness, if nothing more.

As he stands in the middle of the crowded airport, his eyes anxiously roaming through the crowd in search for Andrea’s figure, Frankie reminisces of last night. He’s not stupid; he knows he had one beer too many, became jealous over his best friend and acted stupidly. The kiss was a mistake, clearly.

A soft, passionate mistake that under no circumstances will ever happen again.

His lips burn and ache when he thinks about it. In the freezing temperatures, your mouth was sweet and warm, unlike your attitude towards him. You’ve been pushing him away, and for all the right reasons, too. He understands that. Which is why he hadn’t even told you half of the things on his mind, things that have been lingering in his brain from the second he locked eyes with you in that restaurant nearly a month ago.

He can’t say any of those things, though. It’s not fair and it’s not right towards Andrea. So he has to be honorable and fair, like he was raised to be, and fix everything.

Suddenly, arms wrap him in a tender embrace. Frankie quickly realizes Andrea saw him first and rushed to hug him, so he immediately reciprocates, a little eased too. He pecks her lips, a bitter taste now in his mouth.

It’s not the same, the little pesky voice at the back of his head mutters. It’s not the same, and I hate everything about it.

“How was the conference?” Frankie asks, taking her luggage.

“Oh, you know doctors. Blah, blah, blah and a lot of medical jokes.”

He chuckles, staring at the floor. He finds he’s too guilty to even look at her properly, and it’s starting to corrode him from inside out.

“What about you, how was Valentine’s Day with the gang?” Andrea asks in return, and Frankie’s heart stills, almost sinking.

“Well uh… the guys had some big news. Will and Mia are engaged.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t believe I missed that.”

“And Benny and Emily are moving in together.”

“What?! The one time I miss and they decide to make all these life-changing announcements? Not cool.”

Frankie chuckles as he puts her luggage into the car, gulping. It’s after he closes the trunk that he looks at her, noticing the little freckles on her nose, barely visible, and he smiles in the slightest.

“What?” Andrea asks.

“I missed you.”

That’s what you said the other night, too. You know, to another woman.

Tell her, you coward.

“Baby, I… there’s something I want to tell you,” he gulps.

Andrea’s face wears a certain seriousness about it, much like Frankie’s.

“Actually, I want to tell you something, too,” she replies, to which Frankie frowns.

“Okay.”

“We should probably talk about it at home though.”

“Right.”

The drive back home had been mostly pleasant in spite of the previous grim tone they both had. Andrea told him all about the conference and the medical devices and pharmaceuticals several sale agents tried to sneak by, as well as how much some of the doctors drank at the evening banquet. Frankie laughed, as he always does, and for a moment, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing felt broken.

But the moment they get through the doors, the atmosphere changed again. The more Frankie looks at Andrea, the more he starts to fear that she has some distressing news, too. In a weird way, he hopes that would even things out.

But how is that fair to either one of them?

“So,” Andrea smiles awkwardly, rubbing her palms against her jeans.

“So.”

“What did you want to say?”

“You go ahead.”

Andrea inhales, starting to roam around the living room, visibly nervous.

“Well, as much fun as the conference was,” she starts, “it was also kind of… nerve-wrecking.”

“How so?”

“Most of my colleagues kept asking me questions about the wedding, and at first I was smiling and answering politely, and then… it started to get harder to breathe the more I talked about it.”

Frankie frowns, not really following the story, but not interrupting either.

“And after half a day of talking about it and having trouble breathing, I realized I haven’t actually grasped the whole idea. You know, marriage. An official document that binds us together forever. And it’s… it feels a bit overwhelming. A lot, actually.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

The guilt and fear on Andrea’s face are perfectly legible, and it makes Frankie concerned more than anything.

“I think I am,” she confesses, and it rocks Frankie. “But not about you! You’ve been the perfect boyfriend, the perfect partner so far, in every way. It’s just—“

“I’m far from that, Andrea, trust me.”

She rushes to grab Frankie’s hands, and the way she’s staring at him, with a certain mixture of pity and fear, is hitting him harder than he would’ve expected.

But then he recalls the dreadful thing he’s done, and he realizes he shouldn’t feel like this is unfair to him in any way.

“It feels so permanent, you know?” she mutters, distressed. “Kind of like a tattoo, you wonder if you really wanna get it because it’ll be there forever.”

“Some people just go for it, not thinking twice.”

“I know, I know, and I wanna be one of those people because I love you, I love you a lot—“

Frankie squeezes her hands in his, hoping to calm her down in the slightest. He notices her teary eyes, and he wonders if there isn’t any more to it.

“Did something happen at the conference?” he asks.

Andrea’s eyes widen, and he can see that. He just chooses to not overthink it. The moment is already as confusing as it could possibly be.

“No, of course not,” she rushes to say.

“Then what’s going on? What do you really want, Andrea?”

She takes a deep breath, looking up in an attempt to prevent tears from falling down her cheeks.

“I was thinking… it might be a good idea to take a break from all this wedding planning and talking.”

“Okay, I think that’s a good idea. We can go for a weekend away, just us two, so we can—“

Frankie loses his string of thought when he sees Andrea nodding her head, her face now completely saddened by her thoughts. His forehead creases under the weight of his frown as he stares at her, waiting.

“I meant… maybe we should take a break, us two,” she murmurs.

Then it hits him. “Oh.”

“It’s not because of you, Frankie, sweetie, I promise it isn’t! It’s me and my stupid insecurities and fears, and so I thought… what if we take a break, spend some time apart so we—well, I—figure out some stuff?”

“We’re supposed to get married in three months.”

“I know, I know that.”

“Do you wanna cancel it? I don’t really get what—“

“No, no. Let’s leave it in place, but put us on hold for a bit. We’ll come back stronger to each other.”

Frankie contemplates, momentarily forgetting all about the distressing news he wanted to share with Andrea in the first place. He’s still not quite understanding where this is coming from, or what exactly such a break entails, but what he does know is that he is in no position to judge or be mad, in any way.

“Okay,” he surrenders.

“Okay?”

He nods. “If this is what you need, this is what we’ll do.”

Andrea hugs him tightly, and more guilt washes over him.

“What happens if you decide you don’t wanna go through with this at all?” Frankie asks.

And Andrea remains silent. Instead, she breaks the hug, staring at him.

“You do remember your parents basically set this whole thing up and they’ll probably kill me, right?”

She manages to giggle, cupping his cheek. “They won’t. And… don’t worry, we’ll find a way through it. I just need a bit of time to find myself, that’s all.”

Frankie nods, unable to mutter other words.

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you, Frankie,” she tells him sweetly, and he believes her.

“I don’t wanna hurt you either. Please say you know that.”

“I know. Of course I know that. So whatever it is you wanted to tell me… don’t worry about it.”

“But—“

“I sprung this whole break thing on you, so I think at the very least, you deserve to have a free conscience.”

If only that were true.

Every fiber of his being is shouting at him to just come out and say what he had done, and yet, he remains locked in her arms and in the silence. He thinks there might be some truth to Andrea’s idea. Spending some time apart might be good for them.

You’ve never wanted to leave a party more than you wanted to leave that faithful Valentine’s Day.

You practically bolted out of there, with everyone wondering if something had happened, and with you muttering some random excuses, basically saying you weren’t feeling well. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

You didn’t feel good knowing what happened.

After Emily packed you some of her heart shaped cookies, you excused yourself again and agreed to have Will drive you home. He hadn’t been drinking, which was lucky for you. Of course he also pushed for the truth as to what happened out there, but you wouldn’t divulge anything. You couldn’t. You were to blame just as much as Frankie.

You kissed him back. You reciprocated the kiss, which means you wanted it. You should’ve pushed him away the second it happened, and yet…

You found a little voice at the back of your head, tiny like a vicious gremlin, muttering “more”. The press of Frankie’s lips on yours was like nothing you’ve ever tasted or imagined, and now your body began to crave more of that.

It wasn’t enough. And it scared you because you wanted the same thing from an almost married man.

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t let it develop any further. That is not who you are, and that is not who you would become.

So you did what you always do when you’re feeling overwhelmed or when you’re overthinking: you shut yourself from the world. You avoided all calls and texts from everyone for the next week, with the exception of Rose. You figured you should at least allow your best friend into your life.

Next Friday, you heard a persistent knock on your door. You already knew who it was before you even stood from the couch, but you still found it amusing enough to yell just outside the door, “Who is it?”

“Cut the crap and open the door!”

Chuckling, you open and you’re met with a fuming Rose. Your smile fades as you purse your lips together in shame. Rose practically storms in, hands on her hips as she’s questioning you with a single glare.

“Where the hell have you been?” she starts. “We’ve all been calling and texting you all week.”

“I know that. Work’s getting pretty busy.”

Rose’s eyes narrow as she crosses her arms at her chest, walking slowly towards you.

“Cut the crap,” she says, and you feel like chuckling again at how adorable she looks when she’s pissed and concerned. “What happened last week?”

You exhale, avoiding her eyes for once. “What makes you think something happened?”

“How dumb do you think I am?”

“Not one bit.”

“You’d better not, because I am onto you, baby girl. Something happened with you and Frankie.”

You gulp, praying that your face wouldn’t divulge anything. You weren’t ready to confess such a heinous act, not even to your best friend in the whole world.

“You guys got into it on the porch,” Rose continues.

You make a face. “Uh, maybe ‘getting into it’ isn’t the right phrasing.”

“Fine. You bickered. An argument ensued. Whatever.”

With pursed lips, you nod once as if in agreement. You think it’s best to leave things at that. No point in hurting more people by exposing such a devilish little secret. It was a mistake that will never be repeated, and there is no reason to involve everyone in your mess.

“How bad could it have been for you to just run away?” Rose asks, her tone exuding sheer concern now. “He left in a hurry, too.”

“Yeah, I saw that. You know, to be honest, at some point… there weren’t even that many words exchanged.”

“Look, I know this is hard, I understand. But you guys arguing isn’t doing anyone any good. It’s only hurting you more.”

“I know.”

“And you said it yourself that Andrea is pretty awesome and that you like her, so… there’s gotta be a way to make things work.”

“I know. I am… more than willing to bury the hatchet, let go of my pettiness and hurt and whatever and move on.”

“Good! With that in mind, get dressed. We’re getting drunk tonight.”

“Finally!”

Rose’s tone doesn’t suggest openness for discussion, so you giggle and shrug and move into your bedroom to get dressed. You do your best to put all your worries aside, at least for tonight. You just need a little distraction, and spending time with your best friend might just be the medicine you need.

Half an hour later, you’re in Rose’s car, in the passenger seat, slowly inhaling and exhaling. You’ve never kept any secrets from her, and you feel beyond guilty, but this is your mess, and talking about it wouldn’t help. It would only call more disruption to the group’s lives, and you do not want that.

“So,�� you break the silence. “How come you’re free? Was Santi busy tonight?”

Rose clears her throat, visibly flustered behind the wheel.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been a little… loopy.”

“Relax, I’m teasing you! Mostly.”

You both chuckle. “I know how you felt about him back in high school and how you still feel about him, apparently… and I couldn’t be happier that you guys are finally getting your shot at happiness. Seems like you guys really hit it off.”

Rose smiles briefly at you, focused on the road.

“We did,” she admits shyly. “You’re okay with this though, right?”

You frown, bemused at Rose’s question. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with this?”

“Well… it’s just that the two of you had that… thing a couple of years back and if there were still any feelings left…”

“It wasn’t a ‘thing’. We just… hung out a few times. No big deal.”

The side-eye Rose gives you is plenty for you to feel judged.

“Oh, come on!” you exclaim in frustration.

“It’s okay to call it like it is. Be a normal person about it.”

“Fine. We briefly dated, and the flame of our young love died as fast as it was turned on.”

“Didn’t fool around at all?”

“Nope.”

“Really? Have you seen the man?”

You chuckle. “I did and yes, he’s gorgeous. What we had was a very brief and distracted makeout session in a parking lot at night, got interrupted, and then called it quits. So don’t worry, you have my blessing.”

“How are you in a car, at night, with a guy like that and don’t at least do hand stuff?”

You make a grossed out face along with a disapproving sound.

“Because I need a bit more decency than that,” you reply.

“You won’t say that after you try being indecent once or twice in your life.”

You shake your head, glad to see you’ve finally arrived at one of your favorite places in town. You all used to hang out here after school, having either beers or cappuccinos and shooting pool, and it feels like it was yesterday.

You pick a table that’s more reserved and order two mojitos to get you started. You look around, thinking how much easier it was back then in high school. The only worries you had were homework and still being able to hang out with your friends over the weekend. Now, it all seems like a fever dream.

“Still hung up on Frankie, are we?” Rose asks.

You remain quiet, processing.

“Wow,” Rose coos, checking your face. “You’re not even denying it. You still got it bad for him, don’t you?”

“I can’t. He’s engaged.”

“I know you’re being honorable by shoving these feelings down, but there’s no off switch to them, unfortunately.”

“Rose… of course I can’t just turn it off. He’s the love of my life. I can’t just erase that. The love of my life is getting married and I have to sit around and witness their lovey-dovey display of affection.”

“I thought you liked Andrea.”

“I do, but I can multitask.”

Rose chuckles, taking a sip from her drink. “You don’t think they’re gonna invite you to the wedding, do you?” she asks.

“Oh, I already got invited. By Andrea, no less. I think it was her intention rather than Frankie’s. I politely declined and said I can’t attend. I can’t watch him get married. I just can’t.”

Rose caresses your hand, encouraging you to focus on your drink instead. So you do that. You live in the moment, sipping cocktails and listening to Rose’s giggly stories about her and Santiago and how smitten they seem to be with each other, trying your fucking best to not remember how lonely you feel.

Or how bad you feel for what happened last week.

But worst of all… how bad you feel for craving more.

You can’t. You cannot crave anything else. All you can hope is forgiveness and understanding.

You wonder if Frankie told Andrea. You wonder if she was pissed. You wonder if she’s going to punch you.

You’re not sure when the turning point happens, when you stop wondering and worrying about all of that. All you know is that the cocktails keep on coming, you and Rose keep laughing together, and it all seems right in the world. For a little while.

A buzzing interrupts the laughter at the table, and you hear Rose grunting, checking the phones on the table.

“Ugh, why did I bring this stupid phone?!” she complains.

“Don’t you always say communication is good?” you giggle, fumbling with the straw of your drink.

“Yes but now from my work phone, Jesus! Ughhhhh, hold on, I gotta—I gotta take this.”

You put your hands in the air in protest. “It’s Friday night, we’re out drinking! This is so unprofessional of you! Well, not to them, to them you’re a—brilliant employee. But you’re unprofessional to me! Un… friend—ly. You are an unfriend to me!”

Rose is way out of your earshot, but you’re not really present anymore anyway. However, you find yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone through all the apps, even calculator, calendar and contacts. Since Rose seems to be taking forever on her work call, this is how you entertain yourself.

And then, you sober up momentarily. The name that stands before you brings all sorts of emotions out of you, and you know, somewhere at the back of your mind, that you shouldn’t give it any more power than you already have.

But you also know that you are tired. Tired of pretending, of acting like a cold bitch, you are tired of all the acting like you’re not hurt. Because you are.

And no one’s ever apologized to you for making you feel this way, or for turning you this way.

“Not fair,” you mutter, dialing the number. “Not fair, nothing… is fair.”

“Hey, this is Frankie. I can’t pick up right now, so you know what to do.”

You roll your eyes, and you compose your booze-infused brain to come up with something regarding the reason for your call.

“Hi, it’s me,” you say. “So, here’s the thing. I’m upset and pissed, and a large part of that is because of you. And… you know, it sucks. It sucks so hard to pretend like I have moved on, like all is good, because… it’s not. Nothing is good. Nothing is fair. And you—you owe me, Francisco. For leaving that way, for leaving me… you owe me. An apology would be nice, for start.”

You pause, realizing you’re not sure where to go on from there.

“You hurt me. Every day and every night since you ghosted me… I’ve missed you. You hurt me, and I still missed you. How fucking hilarious and sad for me, huh? But what you don’t understand is… I loved you. I loved you so much I could only breathe properly when you were around me. I could only be myself when you were around me. I loved you, and you left me. All I wanted was you, and… clearly our interests changed somewhere along the line, because this is not the Frankie Morales that I love.”

You blurrily notice Rose approaching the table, walking a little bit funny, and you giggle.

“Anyway, point is,” you end the message, “you owe me an apology, and I hope you told Andrea about last weekend because I don’t wanna be a homewrecker. I might love you and all, but I don’t wanna ruin a marriage. So either love her entirely, with all you’ve got... or choose me. Love me. Your friend.”

You finally hang up, putting the phone back on the table where you found it, and smile innocently at Rose for the rest of the night. Just for the night, you’ll have a good time with your best friend and not think about anything else that hurts you.

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starwarsbean · 10 months ago

Text

Love Against the Odds

Pairing: Tech x F! Reader.

Warnings: Fake Dating. Modern Universe. Smut/ Fluff. Sexual tension.

A/N: Hi everyone!! I hope you’re enjoying reading this modern au. There will be smut in the future chapters. I’m in the process of writing one chapter at a time. I do have an outline of the story! I do post on A03 too! Anyways please heart and let me know if I made any mistakes. <3

Summary: Tech and reader discuss the contract over a dinner date.

Chapter 4

Waking up the sound of your cat purring on your chest. You slowly open your eyes. The sun peaking through your blinds. Petting your cat softly as your cat sits in your lap. Finally getting out of the bed, you stretch your arms. You walk over to the kitchen to feed your cat who is meowing at you.

“Ok ok relax I hear you.” You say putting the cat food in the bowl. You watch your cat eat the food right away. Smiling to yourself as you walk over to your room. You pick up your phone seeing two notifications. One was from Hera and another was from Tech. Your heart skips a beat when seeing tech’s notification. Opening the message right away.

“Good Morning. I have made reservations for dinner tonight. I will pick you up.”

You sit on your bed. Thinking of what to respond to your fake boyfriend. Tilting your head as you text back.

“Good morning Tech. Ok I’ll see you soon.” You hit send as you walk back to your kitchen. You make yourself a breakfast. Another buzz comes from your phone. Seeing another text from Hera and Tech. You completely forgot to respond to Hera. Opening her message first.

“Hey! I hope you had a good night last night! I’m sorry I was not able to chat with you much.”

Another message.

“I hope my boss wasn’t to terrible to you.”

Your eyes widen. Remembering Tech is Heras boss. You debate on telling her the truth or coming up with a lie. If you told her the truth she could get mad going along with techs bizarre agreement. If you lie she wouldn’t have to know and it could just be a secret between you and tech. Taking a deep breath coming up with a reply.

“Heyy! It was all good Hera it wasn’t so bad. Your boss was fine.” You hit send. Feeling guilty for lying to your best friend. You chuckle a bit at your wording “fine” Tech was definitely fine. He was rather good looking with his soft brown eyes and his jawline…You shake your head from this thought. Going back to feeling guilty about lying to Hera. You never lied to her before. Sitting down on your kitchen table not being able to finish your breakfast. You open Techs message now.

“Yes see you soon. I will be there at five o’ clock.”

You take a minute for yourself deciding not text back. You just put a thumbs up on his message. Putting your phone down. You go sit on your couch. Turning on the tv to a series you were watching. Your cat napping next to you. Taking a photo of your adorable cat sleeping. Brighting up your mood as you look at the pictures. You turn your attention to the tv then grabbing your laptop. Scrolling and replying to work related emails.

After finishing up some work on your laptop. You yawn and look at the time on your laptop. Seeing that is it almost time for you to go on your date with Tech. Shutting your laptop down, looking over at your cat who is still sound asleep. A simple no responsibilities in the world.You roll your eyes.

“Oh how nice it is to be a cat.” You say while petting softly. You walk back to your room to get ready. Unsure of what to wear on your fake date. Still finding it weird on the wording fake date. You chuckle while looking through clothes in your closet. Pulling out a short white and black dress. Throwing it on debating to wear a blue dress or the one you have one. Trying them both on. The blue dress was too long and you weren’t in the mood to wear a long dress. You decide to go with the short black and white dress. The dress was fitted exactly for you. The short length and low cut design accentuates your curves and emphasizes your fitting style. Your breast cleavage being shown a bit more than usual. You hurry to the bathroom to do your hair. Afterwards, grabbing your bag and slight a bit of perfume. You see Techs black gloves on the table where your phone is at. Smiling at how thoughtful he was last night to let you wear them. Shoving the gloves in your bag. You hear a knock on the door. You quickly realize the time and know it’s Tech.

You smile to yourself before you open the door. Your heart skips a beat. Finally you get the courage to open the door. Checking him out. Tech would is well-put together and well-groomed. His black wool turtle neck with some nice charcoal trousers. His black trench coat keeping him from being cold. He fixes his glasses to check you out quickly and secretly. Your eyes still on him. It shows he was wanting present himself in the best light possible on this fake date. Tech clears his throat.

“you dressed up nice. We should be heading to our reservation now.” Tech says bluntly as he’s looking at you. He can’t help but admire your eyes. The dress making your eyes and body pop. He quickly looks at his phone to stop himself from looking at you. You chuckle at his somewhat nice compliment.

“You look nice yourself Tech. Where are we going?” You say a bit excited to go. You and Tech walk to his car. He opens the passenger door for you. Thanking him as he closed the door. He gets in the car and quickly puts on the car heater.

“I assume you’re cold. I put on the heater just incase. Mhm. I made us reservations at a restaurant with a rooftop bar and grill. The food is terrific. From what I heard. I looked into the reviews.” Tech says as he drives off. You smile at him. Tech doesn’t notice as he’s paying close attention to the road.

“Sounds like a fun date to me.”

Tech taps his fingers on the wheel. He looks over at you. “Remember this is not a real date. We are negotiating on our fake relationship.”

Your heart drops a little. You nod your head. Brushing it off. Chuckling to yourself.

“I know tech. I’m teasing you.” You say softly .

Techs attention still on the road. His fingers are tapping the wheel still. “Oh. It can be rather difficult for me to understand this sort of teasing.”

“Oh tech I understand.” You say feeling a bit bad.

“Mhmm. Pheraps if we agree to this negotiation. I can learn more about this teasing. with you….” Tech says while driving into a parking garage. Smiling softly to himself.

You see him smiling. You can’t help but think how his smile is beautiful. Even if it was a half smile there was just something about it. You felt like a sense of accomplishment every time he smiled. It made you want to keep a smile on his face as long as you could. As Tech finds a parking spot and finally parks. Both of you exit the car together. You can’t help but notice his height. He sure was taller than you. He’s tall and polite. Youd can’t help it but notice these things. Tech puts his hand on your back as he guides you to the restaurant. The restaurant is crowded and filled with customers. He holds your back close so you don’t get lost in the crowd. Finally reaching the hostess desk. Tech tells the hostess his reservation time. Both of you wait a few minutes till the hostess takes both of you to a private table on the rooftop.

The private table is a viewing of the beautiful sunset rooftop restaurant. It is the epitome of sophistication. The sunset is like a painting with the sound of light jazz music in the background. The stunning skyline with the cotton candy sky. You can’t help it but recognize the atmosphere is romantic. It’s creating a cozy and intimate feeling. The private table is a soft glow with the chic decor. The roof makes the space feel open and airy, accentuated by the sounds of the city below and the gentle breeze of the air. You smile at the sight. Tech looks up at from menu and he starts staring at you.

Tech can’t help but feel a bit of pressure in his heart. He never felt this before. Maybe it was the breakfast he ate in the morning. He can’t help but capture the beauty of the sunset. Then there was you. Just sitting right in front of him while you’re unaware of his admiration. His eyes were on you. His brown honey eyes in a form of admiration just on you. Looking at your soft lips to your eyes. He couldn’t help but admire the beauty. He catches himself looking at you longer than expected. Looking back at the menu. He breaks the silence.

“How are you enjoying the view?” Tech ask while he looks down at the menu.

“It’s definitely really pretty. I love how the sunset looks like cotton candy.” You say while picking up your menu.

“Ah yes. The sunset does look rather nice.” Tech says as he looks up to admire the sunset. Noticing the pink clouds do look like cotton candy.

“What made you pick this place out Tech?” You ask curious why would he take you to an expensive restaurant instead of somewhere less expensive.

“It is rather private. I have now done research on where to take a women on dates. I guess you can say.” Tech says confidently. Pulling out his phone to show the research he’s been doing. He is so confident in himself.

“Wow tech, I’m impressed that you done research for someone who says they don’t have time for dating.” You say teasing him.

“It is only because I want to this plan to work. If we are convincing enough, others will believe our fake relationship is real.” Tech puts his phone down. Paying his attention to you.

The waiter comes to take both of your guys other. Bringing out both of your drinks. You decided to just go with a simple water. Unsure if you should order anything else. Tech looks at you while you order. You swear it feels like he’s studying you.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask Tech while taking a sip of your drink.

“No. If you would like to order anything else you want go ahead and order.”

“Oh, I’m okay for right now. Thanks.” You say with a soft smile.

“Very well then… We should go over our contract.” Tech says while pulling out some paperwork.

Your eyes wide at the amount of paperwork there is. You look around making sure nobody is looking. Realizing the table you’re both sitting at is private and away from most people.

“That is a lot of paperwork Tech. You want me to go over all this?” You say grabbing the paperwork. Scheming through the papers.

“Obviously, it is a contract for a reason.” Tech says while watching you go through the paperwork.

You roll your eyes. Looking through the paperwork. Everything seemed normal nothing weird in the contract. Just the basics on not telling anyone about this. Agreeing to go on dates and events with Tech. You notice in the contract this fake relationship will last only 6 months. Looking back up at Tech. He is busy answering work emails on his phone.

“If you have any questions. Don’t be imitated go ask.” Tech says tapping away on his phone.

“Who said I was imitated? What if I want you to come with me for my own work events?” You ask with a bit of sass as you raise one of your eyebrows.

Tech stops tapping on his phone as he looks up at you. “Yes, this contract includes us both. Not just on my personal behalf.”

You nod your head. Continuing to read more of the contract. You see at the end of the contract in bold “Cannot fall in love.” You chuckle a bit reading that line. Tech hears you chuckle. He looks at you a bit concerned if he made an error.

“Is there some type of error?”

“No, I just thought it was a bit funny how you put “cannot fall in love” in the contract.” You say smiling at him.

Tech fixes his glasses. “I do not see the appeal on your amusement. It is a clear message on both of us agreeing not to fall in love.”

“Okay but what if we do fall in loveee?” You asking teasing him a bit. Trying to keep your laugh quiet as possible. You see Tech got a bit little flustered. He looks at his phone.

“Will not happen. Like, I stated before I do not have time for romance.” Tech says to you with a serious face.

You smile at him. “I know Tech. I’m just teasing you. Something you will get use to in our fake relationship. Everything in the contract looks good.”

He makes eye contact with you. A little smile appearing on his face but goes back to being serious. “Very well then. Just sign the agreement and we’ll continue discussing. I have an extra copy for you to keep, but it is in my car. After dinner I will hand your copy of the contract.” Tech says putting away his phone away.

The waiter comes back with both your meals. Sitting the plates right in front of you both. The waiter ask if you both want to order anything else. Tech shakes his head and the waiter looks at you. You smirk at tech.

“I’ll actually take a berry martini. Thank you.” You say to the waiter. He nods and goes to get your drink. Tech looks at you and takes a bite of his food. The waiter comes back with your drink. You thank the waiter once again.

“Do you want a sip Tech?”

Tech shakes his head no. “Not my ideal drink.”

“What is your ideal drink then?” You ask while taking a sip of the berry martini. Tasting the fruity drink on your lips.

“It depends on the mood. If I’m having a nice meal I will go with a vintage wine. Perhaps a classic shaken gin martini.”

You listen to him talking about his ideal drinks. “Oh come on tech this is basically a martini, but it has vodka not gin.”

Tech chuckles at your persistence to make him try new flavor. “I do not enjoy sweet alcoholic beverages. But, If you insist I will take a sip.”

You smile excitedly at him agreeing. You hand him the berry martini. An intriguing purple-pink color from the blueberries. Watching him take a sip of the drink. He looks at the drink and puts the glass to his lips. Taking a small sip and licking his lips. A rush of berry flavor bursting into his mouth. Slight of bitterness from the alcohol beneath. You look at him waiting for his response.

“That was rather bitter, but delicious. I quite enjoyed the drink.” Tech says while handing you back your drink. You smile in success.

“Yes! I had a feeling you would like it. Since we’re going to be in a fake relationship expect to experience new things.” You say while taking a bite of your food.

Tech nods his head. “Yes, we both will. Speaking of our fake relationship. We both do agree on not telling anyone about this.”

You finish chewing your food. “I don’t plan on telling anyone tech. You should’ve told me you were Heras boss in the beginning.”

“Yes, I formally apologize for not being truthful. If it makes you uncomfortable we can stop this fake relationship before I put the paperwork with my lawyer.”

“No no I’m comfortable, but you should’ve told me.” You say seriously.

Tech looks at you with a bit of guilt in his eyes. “Yes, I do apologize. When do you plan to Hers about us seeing each other.”

You didn’t even think of telling Hera right away. Or even thought about bringing it up. “I was hoping I could tell her before anyone else does. Hopefully I’m able to see her soon.”

Tech looks at you then takes a bite of his food. “Very well then. I will let you deal with that situation.”

You smile at him. Both of you finish up your food. The meal was absolutely delicious and did not leave you feeling bloated. Tech excuses himself to use the restroom. You sit at the table alone. Deciding to go on your phone. Seeing a message from Hera.

“Hey! Are you busy tonight?”

You quickly reply. “Yess I’m having dinner with a friend.” It wasn’t much of a lie. You could consider tech as your friend. Even though it will be shown to others as if you’re together. You sigh. Already receiving a reply from Hera.

“A friend?! Tell me all about it when you get home”

You decide not to reply. Thinking of what to say to her later. You groan slightly and lean your head on the palm of your hand. Looking down at your phone scrolling through social media. You hear your name being called. You quickly look up expecting to see Tech, but you see your ex Anakin. Your eyes wide open. Looking around to see if Tech was already coming back. You get up from your chair to give Anakin a slight hug. Anakin smile is wide as he places his hands on your elbows.

“You look amazing! How have you been?” Anakin says with a smile on his face. His blue eyes looking into your eyes.

“I’ve been okay! You know me busy busy with work. How are you?” You say a bit awkward.

“I’ve been good. I recently started a project with Obiwan. He’s been teaching as a professor at some university. Busy myself.” Anakin says.

“That’s wonderful to hear. Glad you both are getting along again.” You say softly. You look to make sure Tech isn’t back yet.

“Yeah it’s been tough. Anyways, are you here with Hera or a coworker?” Anakin says with a bright smile.

“Oh no actually I’m on a date.” You say nodding your head. You sit back down on your chair. Feeling a bit awkward using the word date since it wasn’t a real date.

“You’re back on the dating scene? That’s great. I hope I’m not interrupting. But, I don’t see him. Would he mind if I sat down in his chair?” Anakin sits before you could say anything.

“Um Anakin I don’t think you should. He’s my boyfriend actually.” Looking at Anakins reaction who looks rather mad that you moved on. “I see.” Anakin replies.

Tech comes back from the restroom. He had to take a business call but didn’t want to be rude. He had a confused face on why a man is sitting in his seat. An eyebrow raised as he rushes to table thinking the guy is a weirdo trying to make you uncomfortable. Tech clears his throat. His eyesbrows narrowed down.

“Excuse me, you’re in my seat.” Tech says coldly. A pinch of annoyance in his face.

Anakin looks at tech and scoffs. Anakin looks at you. “It was great seeing you again. If you ever want to catch up. You can give me a call.” Anakin says to you and leaves the table.

Your eyes move to the side. You sense tech feeling a bit confused on what happened. Looking at tech who is a bit annoyed on the situation.

“That was my ex boyfriend. I didn’t expect to see him here.” You say playing with your fingers.

“I see. No wonder why he glared at him.” Tech says while he sits in his chair. He looks at you. “Did you tell him we were together?” Tech says with a slight grin.

“He glared at you? Yeah I told him I was on a date. Nothing about our agreement.” You say softly.

Tech nods. “Good. Why did you two break up if you don’t mind me asking?” Tech looks at the table anakin was sitting at. Anakin was with a group of friends. He could feel anakins eyes on them.

You chuckle thinking of what to say. “We both just didn’t work well together. Just wasn’t feeling it.” You finish drinking your berry martini.

Tech nods at your response. Trying to understand the concept of relationship issues. Tech makes eye contact with Anakin. He looks back at you and places his hand on top of yours. You jolt a bit from the warmth of his hand.

“If we want this fake relationship to work. We have to make it look clear we’re together.” Tech says as he runs his thumb over your hand. You can’t help but feel a pile of butterflies in your stomach. The warmth of his hand feeling the coldness of your hands. You both make eye contact and smile at one another.

“Yeah you’re right about that.” You say looking at techs honey brown eyes.

“Of course, I am.” He says handing his card to the waiter. His right hand not leaving your hand. He sees anakin staring at you both. Now ignoring him as he puts his attention on you.

You both thank the waiter for his service. Tech puts his hand on your back. Guiding you out of the crowded restaurant. You can’t help but like the feeling of his hand on your back. Both of you walk back to his car. As he opens the car door for you again. Smiling at his generous gesture. As tech drives off to your place. You remember you still have his gloves.

“Tech, I can’t forgot to give you back your gloves last night.” You say looking at him driving.

His eyes turn to you. “Keep them. I read an article on how girlfriends keep a piece of their partners clothing as a form of comfort.”

You laugh. “Usually it’s a shirt or a jacket. Not always gloves but I’ll keep them on since I’m cold.”

“Oh. Perhaps I can let you borrow a jacket sometime.” Tech says with a small grin. As he turns lanes while driving.

“Great. I’m still keeping the gloves though.” Laughing a bit as you put on his gloves. Feeling the coldness leave your hands as you wear techs gloves.

Tech laughs softly. “The next time we meet. We need to discuss more about ourselves. Just incase others ask or tend to notice we don’t know much about each others interests.”

You nod your head agreeing. Looking out the window. Watching the stars as tech drives you home. Slight of excitement fills you as you think of knowing more about tech. You were curious to know more about his background and interest.

Tech parks in front of your place. You smile at him as he’s about to get down to walk you to the door.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door tech. It’s okay.”

Tech looks at you and nods. “I will watch you to make sure you get in safe.”

You smile and get out of the car. You walk to the front of your building. Looking back at him watching you from afar in the car. You smile and wave. You see him smile as you walk inside.

Closing the door behind you. A pit of hope fills your empty heart. You can’t help but wonder on how it would be if any of the dates were real. You sigh. Remembering you can’t fall for him. There’s a knock on your door. You open the door and see it’s tech. A pinch of excitement over takes you.

“Tech? What happened?”

Tech hands you the contract. “You see I lost in my thoughts while driving here. I forgot to give your extra copy of the contract.”

You take the contact from his hands. “Tech, you could’ve just gave it to me the next time we saw each other.” You laugh a bit.

He fixes his glasses. “Yes, I could’ve done that.” You smile at him. Your cat meows at tech. You bend over to pick up your cat.

“Fascinating. Cats are unpredictable creatures, which makes them interesting to observe. They can be fun and playful, but also aloof and independent creatures. Their unpredictable nature fascinates me.” Tech says as he studied your cat.

You think it’s cute how hes rambling on about cats. A bit impressed on the information he just told you. “Tech, you can pet my cat if you would like.”

Tech realizes he was rambling. He fixes his glasses. “I apologize for my ramble. Sometimes I can get ahead of myself.” Tech slowly puts his hand softly on your cats head. As he brushes the soft fur of your cat. Causing your cat to purr in your arms.

“Don’t worry about it tech. I find it really interesting when you info dump.” You say looking at him. His turtleneck making his shoulders look good. “My cat likes you. Usually my cat hides or doesn’t want to be pet.” You say staring at tech. He continues petting your cat.

Tech looks back at you and stops petting. He smiles and nods. “Great to know. I always wanted a cat but never have the time.”

“Now that you have a fake girlfriend. My cat is your cat for the next 6 months.” You say joking with him.

He laughs. “I should be heading home. Goodnight.” Tech smiles at you and leaves. Closing the door softly as you finally put your cat back down on the floor. You put the contract on the table as you go feed your cat.

After feeding your cat. You go get dressed to head to bed. Laying down and yawning. You remember you forgot to text back Hera. Thinking of what to say.

“It was a coworker. We had to catch up to talk about a client.” You hit send. Yawning a bit. Your phone buzzing seeing a message from Tech.

“Goodnight. I will text you details on our next date.” You grin at the message. “Okay. Goodnight tech.” You hit send as you put your phone on do not disturb.

Thinking of techs brown eyes looking into your eyes. You can’t help but fantasize on what his lips feel like. Were they soft? Would his kisses be harsh? The way his lips took a small sip of your drink. Wanting to taste the drink off his lips. You slowly feel your eyes drift to sleep. Finally falling asleep.

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marie-swriting · 2 years ago

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It Is Not Your Job - Steve Harrington

Masterlist

Summary : You're feeling worse and worse everyday, hoping your parents will finally notice you, but only your brother, Steve, seems to worry about you, as always.

Warnings : Y/N is 15, Steve is 17, underage drinking (don't drink if you're not of age !), mention of drugs, bad parents, feeling of not being seen, feeling bad (talk to someone if you're not okay ! My dms are open if you need to talk to someone), following strangers (don't follow people you don't know, be careful !), education situation complicatd, angst, fluffy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if I missed other warnings.

Word count : 4.2k

French version on Wattpad

French Version on Tumblr

“Mom, you really need to sign our report cards.” You take your attention away from your TV as you hear your brother, Steve, talking to your mom.

“Already ? Oh yeah, the semester’s been over for a month. Where are they ?”

“We hung them on the fridge to make sure you and dad would find them easily.”

“Oh, I hadn’t seen it.” Your mother states, softly laughing.

From afar, you watch the interaction before rolling your eyes. Obviously she hadn’t seen your report cards on the fridge even though she’s walked past it for the past three days. She doesn’t see anything. She doesn’t see any of you. Your mother and father are there without really being there. You know they’re absent because of their work, they do everything to give you a ‘good life’ but you wish in their definition of a ‘good life’ there was something about being a ‘good parent’.

Your mom takes her work’s pen and signs the papers without looking at it.

“Congrats, babies. You did an amazing job.” She affirms with a wide smile.

For you, that’s your last straw. How could she say you did an amazing job when your grades completely went down this semester ? Even your teachers are worried about your future. Your mother doesn’t even pay attention to it. As always.

You’re tired of your mother’s hypocrisy so you get up from the couch and go to your room, without looking at Steve and your mom who are still in the kitchen.

When you enter Miss Click’s classroom, you hand her your report cards, newly signed. She thanks you before getting ready to start her class. You sit at your usual spot and pretend you’re listening to the teacher.

Since last month, your attention about school went down, just like your grades. You’re not following the classes attentively anymore and you keep skipping school. You had done it before, but only twice and they were exceptions, you had found good excuses to not feel guilty about it. Now, you do it without a second thought. After all, if the school tried to inform your parents, they wouldn't answer. If it was the case, you could always lie to your parents about why you skipped school, they wouldn't be able to check the truth as they're always on the opposite side of the country or even on another continent.

Steve noticed the change in your behavior but didn’t tell you anything. He guesses you’re only going through a bad phase. If you really weren’t feeling well, he knows you’d come to him. He’s spent his whole life reminding you he’s always there for you. He perfectly knows how to take care of you. Maybe too much, if someone asked for your opinion.

Two days later, it’s your father’s turn to come back from a work trip. He’s even worse than your mother. He speaks only if it’s necessary, whereas your mom, at least, tries to act as if she cares.

Annoyed by the so-called presence of your parents, you take refuge in your room again. You put your music on, turning up the volume, while you’re reading a magazine. You do everything to get lost in your thoughts, to forget you’re in a house that is everything but a home.

As you’re turning a page, your music gets drastically quiet. You take your eyes away from your magazine and see your dad in front of your radio, an irritated expression on his face.

“What do you think you’re doing ? I was listening to my music !” You say, getting angry.

You get up from your bed and start walking toward your radio but your dad gets in front of it.

“And I am trying to work. You’re so-called music prevents me from it.” He snaps, dryly.

“I need my music to focus.”

“You’re reading a stupid magazine.” Your father retorts, rolling his eyes.

“I do what I want, this is my room !”

“It might be your room but you’re under my roof. You do as I say ! So you stop with your stupid music.” He orders. “If you really want to destroy your ears with it, use your walkman. You know, the thing that cost us a leg and that you wanted so much.”

You sigh, frustrated while your father slams the door. You go back to your bed and scream in your pillow. You got irritated by talking to your father for less than a minute. That was also the first time you talked with your dad since he came home, by the way. As you don’t want to have to deal with him again, you get your walkman he so ‘kindly’ offered you and put your tape in it. Your headphones on, you turn on the music, trying to evacuate your emotions.

When you go into the kitchen the next day to have breakfast, you find a note on the fridge. You immediately recognise your mom’s writing. You don’t need to read it to know the content. She left for yet another work trip. She only stayed at home for a week. It’s almost a record. You scrunch the paper before throwing it on the table. You’re not hungry anymore so you go back to your room to get ready for school.

When you arrive at school with Steve, you do everything to hide your uneasiness. He tried to question you but you acted as if everything was okay. You don’t want him to worry for you. Besides, you don’t even really know what you’re feeling yourself. There are so many different emotions going through your head. You’re completely lost. You just hope your classes will be a good distraction.

During Miss Click’s lecture, she gives you back your test from last week. She hands you your paper and tells you she wants to see you after class. You nod before quickly taking a look at your grade. You got a D-, let’s say it’s better than a F…

For the remaining time, you’re nervous about the conversation with your teacher. When the moment finally comes, you do everything to hide your nervousness.

“You wanted to see me, Miss ?”

“Yes, Y/N. I’d like to discuss your grades. You may have gotten some better grades on the last tests but it’s still not enough. I know what you’re capable of. You’re a good student. Can you tell me what’s happening ?” She asks, worried.

“I… I’m just a little bit tired.” You lie. “I’m going to do better, I promise you.”

“I’m sure you can, but it doesn’t look like you are. Look, I would like to talk with your parents. I know it’s difficult for them but it can’t keep going on like this.”

“My mom left today and my dad is busy and he’s probably gonna leave soon, too.”

“I know but isn’t there a solution for me to see them ?” She insists and you start feeling embarrassed.

“I think you’ll be luckier with my mom but if you want to talk to her now, it’ll only be through the phone.”

“It’s better than nothing. Could you give me her number, please ?” She says, taking a pen.

“I don’t have her hotel number yet. I’ll probably have it tonight though. I’ll tell you during the week but I can’t promise you you’ll have her on the phone right away.”

“It’s okay, I’ll still try. Thanks.”

“Have a good day, Miss.” You finish as you start to walk away but she holds you back.

“Y/N, you know, if you need to, you can talk to me. If you struggle following the lesson, I’d be happy to help you.”

“Thanks.”

You give her a small smile before leaving her class, embarrassed. You have the impression Miss Click is pitying you and you hate it. Obviously she means well, but you don’t want to make her think you can’t handle things on your own. You know how to do it. You’ve known how to do it since your childhood. Your parents didn’t give you any other choice.

Even if it’s lunch break, you don’t go to the cafeteria. You wouldn’t have the time to properly relax so you better not eat at all. Instead, you leave the building and walk to the forest next to the school. You walk carefully, making sure no one is seeing you until you’re in front of the picnic table.

“Little Harrington. To what do I owe this pleasure ?” Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson smiles when he notices you.

“You do know I’m not only Steve’s sister, right ?”

“I know. What can I do for you ?”

“What can I have for fifty bucks ?” You ask, taking him aback.

“Sorry ?”

“For fifty bucks, what can you sell me ?”

“Nothing.” He affirms without wasting a second.

“What, is it more expensive ? I can already give you fifty and the rest tomorrow.”

“No, I think you didn’t understand me, Little Harrington, I’m not gonna sell you anything.” Eddie clarifies and it’s your turn to be taken aback.

“Why ?”

“You’re fourteen.”

“I’m fifteen !” You correct, annoyed.

“Sorry, Ma'am.” He states dramatically. “I don’t sell to minors.”

“So what ? You’re a saint now ?” You ask and he shrugs. “You’re selling drugs in a high school, what did you expect ?”

“Let’s just say I don’t sell anything to people under seventeen. In either case, you don’t fit into any categories.”

“You’re a jerk.” You state with a fake smile.

“Thanks, Little Harrington.” He jokes while you leave the forest. “It was a pleasure to not make a deal with you !”

After his sarcastic comment, you flip him the bird while you’re still walking toward the school. Among the people of this place, you’d never have thought Eddie Munson would play the good samaritan. Even if you don’t want to, you go back to class, suffering in silence.

When your father leaves Hawkins for his work two weeks later, you feel like it’s too much for you. You’re feeling really bad. You feel sick in your stomach. You can’t even eat. You feel like you could be sick at any given moment. Steve noticed it during the drive to school. He didn’t ask you any questions while he was driving, he wanted to let you rest for a bit. Maybe you just needed a few more minutes of sleep ? Yet, when you arrive at school, his brother's instinct kicks in.

“Are you feeling okay Y/N ? You look sick.”

“Yeah, I just have a bit of a stomach ache. It’ll go away soon. Don’t worry.”

“You’re sure ? We still have some time. We could go back home. I’ll call school and explain everything.” He assures you and you try to smile.

“Steve, I’m okay. It’ll pass in an hour, at most.”

“If you need, you can always go see the nurse and tell her to tell me if you go back home.”

You nod before leaving the car. You let Steve join his friends while you go to your class.

Your uneasiness is still there, even after one hour. Being at school begins to be too much for you, you decide to skip the rest of the day. You walk around Hawkins for a few hours before going back home.

You’re laying on the couch, you’re reading when Steve comes back home, panicked. Relief quickly makes its way on his face when he notices you.

“God, Y/N, you scared me ! I couldn’t find you in the corridors and I tried to call home but got no response !”

“Sorry, Steve. I really wasn’t feeling well and the nurse said I could go back home. I totally forgot to tell her to tell you. And when I got home, I went directly to sleep. I was so tired that I didn’t hear the phone.” You lie.

“I understand but remember to tell me next time. You really scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re feeling better now ?” He asks, worried as he puts his hand on your forehead.

“I’m feeling better, yes. Besides, I don’t have a fever, Steve.”

“We never know. Maybe you caught something.”

“It’s nothing bad. I’m fine.”

“Alright, but tell me if it happens again !”

“Promise.”

Steve goes to his room while you look at him, a grateful expression on your face. You feel lucky to have a brother who worries that much for you, who cares that much about you. He does a better job than your parents. You can’t even remember the last time one of your parents put their hand on your forehead to check your temperature. The feeling of gratitude quickly leaves your body as a wave of sadness comes when you realise how much Steve sacrifices for you. How much he’s sacrificed his life to do your parents’ job. He shouldn’t worry this much…

You try to call your mom for the fifth time in a row. Miss Click is being more and more insistent. She informed you she couldn’t reach your mom, despite trying several times. You promised her you’ll get a hold of her. You’re not surprised to see your mom acting this way. You told her your teacher wanted to talk to her about your grades. For a second, you thought she understood something was going on, that she’ll finally worry. Guess you were wrong.

When your mom still doesn’t answer you, you aggressively hang up the phone. Why do you even bother to make all of this effort if she doesn’t even try ?

This situation with your parents is becoming more and more insufferable. You want to talk about it with Steve but you’re afraid is going to take your parents’ side. After all, they’re not there because they want to give you a good future. They’re not doing it the right way but they mean well, right ? It’s selfish coming from you to ask to have their attention all the time. But they could have at least paid attention to your academic situation ! If a teacher wants to talk with your parents, it’s because there’s a problem. They should notice it so why isn’t it the case ? Every contradiction tumbles out in your head. If only you could have parents with a normal job, everything would be much easier.

Those contradictions keep running through your head for a few days, making your uneasiness worse. You’re shutting off more and more and skipping as much. Steve does everything to know the truth but you stay quiet. He already has so many things to handle, he doesn’t need another problem.

Today, you want to try to do a full school day but as soon as the bell rings, your stomach ache comes back. You now know there’s only one solution : leaving school and staying in your own bubble, away from everyone. You feel like you’re getting better when you do that. So, you wait until the corridors are empty to leave the building discreetly.

Outside, you walk around town. You go to some stores but buy nothing. You eat the sandwich you made for the day before walking some more. You wander like a ghost, like the shadow of your former self. When the end of the day comes, you don’t have the strength to go back home. You still want to stay in your own bubble. But staying in your own bubble sober is not enough anymore.

You walk to a grocery store and wait for an adult to ask them to buy you some alcohol. When a young man of about twenty years accepts to do it, you thank him. When he comes back and he gives you the alcohol, you’re even more grateful. You start to walk away when he calls you

“You know, you don’t have to drink alone. Wanna come with my friends and I ? We’re going to a bar not far away from here. They don’t ask for IDs.”

You hesitate for a second. You look at the man before looking at the car where there are two women and another man sitting. You think a little bit more before answering.

“Why not.”

“Yes ! Come, let’s have some fun !” One of the women screams before opening the car door.

You get into the car, following these strangers in the bar the guy told you about while you almost drink the whole bottle. As you were told, no one asks for your ID in the bar. You can order as much as you want. You decide to try a little bit of everything. You’ve always been rational. That night, you want to change that. Your new friends encourage you to drink by telling you a little bit about every alcohol available. You keep drinking shots as well as another regular drink until your head starts spinning. You hold onto the counter before feeling nauseous. You run into the bathroom, by some miracle you can hold back until your face is above the toilet. Nichole, one the women from the group, followed you so she’s currently holding back your hair while you empty your stomach.

“Thanks.”

“I think you had enough for tonight, don’t you think ?” She laughs.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Come on, let’s go. We’re gonna tell the others we need to get you back home.”

“Do I really need to go back home ?” You question before cleaning your mouth.

“Your parents aren’t there, right ? You said that earlier so you won’t get grounded.”

“It’s true ! You’re totally right ! Besides, even if they were there, they don’t care about me. They wouldn't even notice I’m drunk.” you add, suddenly feeling confident.

“Come on, troublemaker, it’s time to go home.”

Nichole supports you to help you leave the bathroom. When you get back to the others, you’re not fully lucid to say you need a ride back home so your new friend tells them. They nod, laughing when they see your state.

On the way home, Pete, the one who bought you alcohol, makes sure to drive slowly. Not because he drank alcohol too and wants to be responsible but because he doesn’t want you to throw up in his car.

Fortunately, you arrive at your destination without giving back your stomach content. You wave at your new friends before walking to the door. You take your key from your school bag and open the door. You don’t even have the time to put your belongings down when you’re suddenly blinded by the lights. Steve runs toward you, in utter panic.

“You’re really coming home only right now ? Fuck, Y/N, it’s one a.m, I was worried sick ! I thought something happened to you ! I even called the cops.”

“It’s alright, I’m not dead, Steve.” You murmur, rolling your eyes.

“Are you… Did you drink ?” He asks, getting closer to you.

“No.”

“Y/N.” He insists with a more authoritarian tone.

“Okay, maybe one drink.”

“How did you do it ? You’re only fifteen.”

“I asked Pete.”

“Who is that Pete ?”

“The guy I met earlier. He’s the one who drove me home.” You inform, smiling.

“Are you really telling me you accepted alcohol from a stranger and you got into the care of that very same stranger ? Do you even realise how dangerous it was ? He could have hurt you !” He snaps, in shock.

“Calm down, there was Nichole, Tessa and George, too.”

“Oh, and this is supposed to reassure me ? You’re completely drunk, it’s one a.m, you disappeared since this morning and you hung out with God knows who. Do you have any idea how bad I felt ?”

“It’s…”

“Don’t even dare say ‘it’s nothing’, Y/N.” He cuts you, guessing what you were going to say. “I’m responsible for you when the parents aren’t there. I was so freaking scared ! And not only tonight, by the way. I’ve been worrying about you for two months.” He admits and you frown as you guess he understood. “Yeah, maybe they haven’t seen anything but I noticed your grades slipping since day one. I also noticed you kept skipping school. I also know you tried to buy drugs.”

“How do you even… ?”

“Munson told me.”

“That dick !” You whisper, feeling betrayed.

“Thank God he told me ! He also confirmed all of my doubts. God, Y/N, what’s going on ? Why are you shutting yourself off like that ? You know I’m here for you so why are you acting like that ? I can help you. I just feel you fading away and I’m scared for you.”

“Oh my God, can you stop ?” You scream, mad.

“Stop what ? Worrying about you ? I have to. You’re throwing your life away.” Steve retorts.

“Stop acting like a parent, it is not your job, for fuck’s sake ! Do you even realise the speech you just gave me, it should be mom or dad doing it ! Not you. Yes, you could be worried but you’re my brother. You’re supposed to make fun of me because I’m being yelled at or you should blackmail me to not tell the parents about my grades. That is your job. You’re not a parent ! You’re not supposed to be responsible for me.”

“They work hard to…”

“To give us a beautiful future, I know.” You cut him, irritated. “But at what cost ? Steve, I’ve seen you acting more like a parent than a teenager and you’re seventeen. I’m tired of seeing you sacrifice your life because two adults aren’t able to do their job. Look, we have a new proof tonight. You were worried sick, you called the cops because I disappeared the whole day.” You keep saying, tearing up. “Parents are supposed to do that, not you. You said it yourself, it’s been two months since you’ve noticed I wasn’t feeling okay. Mom didn’t even notice my grades dropped, even though she signed the report card ! It makes me mad because even when I try to catch their attention, you’re the one worrying. Like you always do. I just want them to notice they’ve failed as parents for once. I want them to see us. For once. But it’s not working. I don’t know what else I can do and I’m sick of it. I can’t stand it anymore, Steve.”

You completely break down in tears. Steve doesn’t answer but hugs you as tight as he can. He knew your family situation affected you, just like it does to him, but he never would have imagined you were suffering this much. He strokes your head, trying his best to calm your sobs as he murmurs sweet nothings. You didn’t think you’d break down tonight but it’s the case. You keep crying every single tear from your body for a few minutes before calming down. When Steve doesn’t feel your shoulders moving anymore, he breaks the embrace a little to look at your face, to look at his little sister’s face, completely broken.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry I didn’t understand sooner why you weren’t feeling okay. I should’ve tried harder when I was asking you how you were.” He says, feeling guilty.

“I would have lied.”

“Still, I should have tried harder.”

“It is not your job.” You repeat whispering.

“It shouldn't be but it is. Even if it’s complicated to handle all of these responsibilities, I’m happy to be here for you so come talk to me when you’re not fine. Maybe I won’t have all the answers but I’ll do my best.” Your big brother assures you.

“Thanks.” You smile.

“If you want, we can try to talk to the parents ?” He suggests.

“They won’t listen.”

“We can always try.”

“Yeah.” You accept, not really convinced.

“You should rest, okay ?” Steve recommends you and you nod.

“Can you stay with me tonight ? Like when I had a nightmare when I was younger ?” You ask with a small voice.

“Sure. I’ll just call the police to say you’re home. I’ll also prepare you a glass of water and some medicine, you’re gonna have one hell of a headache.” He says, laughing a little as he points at your head.

“I guess.” You say, giggling.

Steve kisses your forehead before inviting you to go to your room. You smile at him a little before going upstairs. He starts walking toward the phone in the living room when you stop and call for him. Steve comes back with a questioning look.

“I’m sorry.” You start before clearing your throat. “For worrying you the past two months but especially for tonight. Maybe I wanted the parents to worry but the last thing I wanted was for you to be scared. You’ve been doing so much for me since we’re kids. I’m really grateful to have you as a big brother.” You admit, looking down for a second. “I just hope you know that.”

“I’m glad to have you as a little sister.”

“Again, sorry for tonight. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in english #stranger things x y/n #stranger things one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x sister!reader #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x sister reader #sister!reader

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